


The Moment I Knew

by standintherain16



Series: Haunted [2]
Category: One Direction
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Eating Disorder, F/M, Heavy Angst, It's seriously really angsty, M/M, Rehab, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 116,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/standintherain16/pseuds/standintherain16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sequel to Haunted) Louis can hardly deal with knowing that Harry tried to kill himself because he fell in love with the wrong person, Louis. Harry can hardly deal with the fact that he failed and now he's forced to try and fix himself. Both of them don't know what to do anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Haunted, so if you didn't read that yet, you probably should.

Finding out somebody is in love with me is one thing.  
Finding out that he tried to kill himself because he is in love with me is another.  
It's knowing that I'm the reason that he tried to end his life, that I'm the reason he self-harmed, that he starved himself, that he made himself throw up, that makes me feel overwhelmed with so many confusing emotions that I just want to scream.  
I'm the reason for all of this and everybody knew it but me.  
The moment that I knew, that I became a part of this twisted club of people who know, I wished that I could go back to the innocence of not knowing.  
I wish that I could talk to him. I need answers.  
What made him fall in love with me in the first place? What's so special about me? He deserves so much better.  
Did we seriously sleep together?  
Why didn't he ever tell me? Well, I understand why he didn't, but it seems like a question that needs to be asked anyways.  
The guilt is overwhelming, as is the uncontrollable anger.  
Why would he do something so stupid?  
I reread the note for the thousandth time, ignoring the pitying looks the secretary gives me through my constant film of tears.  
Fresh pain and hurt overwhelms me as I read what he wrote to me. His last words.  
I want to go back before I knew. But I can't.  
The moment I knew changed everything. And now I have to deal with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Liam's POV

I had never been an impatient person, really. But sitting in a dismal waiting room in the emergency room and just barely clinging to my sanity, I was ready to hit the roof. 

I was going out of my mind with fear and worry. A doctor had come out after three painfully long hours and explained to us that after getting his stomach pumped, blood transfusions, and a dose of charcoal to help get rid of any remaining medication, Harry had been stabilized but wasn't awake yet, nor would he be for a while. 

I spent the time washing my hands repeatedly, trying to get any trace of blood off of me. 

I couldn't get the image of Harry out of my head, collapsed in a pool of his own blood. I hadn't even thought he was alive until I found a rapidly slowing pulse. I'd immediately wrapped two of Harry's shirts that I found on the floor around his bloody wrists and forced him to keep breathing with CPR. It had easily been the most terrifying moment of my entire life. 

I shook the memory out of my head and focused on Louis. 

He sat two chairs away from me, staring numbly into a space a few feet in front of him. His hands folded and unfolded a letter that I had found addressed to him on Harry's bed. Louis wouldn't let any of us read it. He wouldn't even let us near him. 

I had seen Harry cry so hard that he couldn't breath on multiple occasions, but how hard Louis had been crying easily beat anything I had ever seen. When we had first arrived at Harry's flat and gotten into his room, Zayn had had to hold Louis back from getting to Harry. Louis had been screaming and thrashing around and Niall had eventually had to help Zayn wrestle Louis into a different room. Judging from the bruise that had formed on Zayn's cheek, Louis had not been happy about that. 

When we had arrived at the emergency room, Louis had been so hysterical that we had had to give the staff permission to administer a mild sedative. Now, Louis had settled into what a doctor said was shock. 

Zayn periodically came in to see if there was any news, but he mostly stayed outside and smoked. Niall was keeping him company and I had a feeling that Zayn wasn't the only one smoking. 

Anne, Harry's mum, had been called and she had left immediately, but had called me to say that there had been a bad accident and traffic was backed up for close to a mile and that she and Gemma wouldn't be arriving as quickly as they wanted to. 

"Lou?" I asked softly. I knew that he was in shock, but the doctor had suggested to periodically try to get him to talk. 

He didn't respond and he refolded the letter. 

"Lou, please, I just want to know what Harry told you in that letter," I begged. 

His hands stopped as they started to unfold it and he looked at me sharply, bloodshot blue eyes cold and harsh. 

"Everything," he croaked, "That bastard told me everything." 

Then he turned back around and resumed unfolding it. 

I stood up and sat down next to him and he flinched away as I tried to hug him. 

"C'mon, Lou, we both need somebody right now and Zayn and Niall are together smoking up a storm," I said. 

He relaxed slightly, but his grip tightened on the paper. I noticed a smear of brown that I assumed was dried blood. 

"Can I see?" I asked gently. 

"Leave me alone," he snarled, "Just go." 

The venom in his voice made me recoil and I slunk back to my seat two chairs away. 

I risked going on Twitter. I was immediately greeted with frenzied tweets from our fans. 

Somebody had somehow gotten a picture of us sprinting into the hospital. It was obvious that Zayn, Louis, Niall and I were there and Harry was not. Along with that picture, I saw some that had been taken in the waiting room. I should have been surprised, but I wasn't. A fan must have recognized us and taken them while they waited. There was only a teenage boy with hot pink hair and a older woman, so I assumed that whoever had taken the pictures had left. 

I looked at them. There was one of Louis when he was yelling at the doctor, demanding to see Harry and one of him as he was now, completely blank and ashen. There was one of Niall curled up in a ball on a chair, hugging his knees as he cried into Zayn's shoulder. I had a feeling that there were more but I didn't look. 

I knew that we had to tell our fans the truth. Paul had called management and told them. They were apparently horrified and promised to do anything they could to help Harry get better. 

I beckoned Paul over from where he stood by the door, looking distraught. 

"The fans know that Harry's in the hospital. Somebody got pictures of us in here. I want to tell them," I explained. 

Paul nodded and sighed. 

"What will you say?" he asked. 

"I want to tell them the truth. Obviously not why, but they don't deserve a bunch of lies," I said. 

"I'll call Modest! and make sure they think that's okay," he said. 

A few minutes later, he came back and said that management had given me permission. 

'You've probably all seen the pictures, and we feel that you guys deserve to know the truth. Harry tried to commit suicide today.' 

'He has been stabilized but he isn't awake yet.' 

'It is in no way our fans' fault, it was because of something personal to him.' 

'We really need everyone's support right now so please send your thoughts this way.' 

'I'll try to keep you guys' updated.'

Twitter immediately exploded as soon as I posted the tweets. Within minutes 'Get Better Harry', 'Pray For Harry', 'Harry Styles', and 'Pray For 1D' were trending. I had to appreciate our fans' concern and horror when they learned the news. 

The same doctor who had told us that Harry was going to be alright came out again and approached me. 

"Come with me," he instructed. 

Louis instantly stood. 

"What about me?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. 

"Just Mr. Payne right now. I just need to go over a few things with him about Harry's condition," the doctor replied calmly. 

Louis looked like he was ready to flip out again, but Paul noticed and came over, taking Louis's arm and sitting him back down. 

I followed the doctor quietly and he led me to a room. He opened the door and I shuddered as I saw Harry laying in a bed. It struck me just how small he looked. Harry was tall, he was taller than anyone in the band. But now, seeing him so weak and thin, he just looked so small. 

"We normally allow only immediate family in, but his mother insisted quite adamantly that you boys are his immediate family. I didn't see the other two with you and Mr. Tomlinson is in no condition to discuss matters calmly, so I chose you," the doctor explained. 

"I didn't quite catch your name?" I prompted, tearing my eyes away from Harry. 

"Dr. Nicholas Stern," he answered, and we shook hands. 

I sat down on a chair next to Harry's bed and studied him. I felt terrible for allowing things to get this bad. I could have forced him to see somebody, but I hadn't. 

"Do you know why he tried to commit suicide?" Dr. Stern asked. 

"He ah...he fell in love with Louis a while back. It's been downhill since then but Louis proposed to his girlfriend today and Harry just...he couldn't take any more, I guess," I sighed, my eyes burning as I forced tears back. 

"Unrequited love. It isn't as unusual to have people in his situation as one might think," Dr. Stern mused, checking a machine and scribbling something down. 

I nodded absently. 

"Are you aware that he was self-harming?" he asked. 

"Unfortunately. We tried therapy and rehab but it only seemed like it made it worse," I sighed. 

"Eating disorders?" he continued. 

"He didn't eat much but I don't think he ever had like anorexia. Cause that's the fear of gaining weight, isn't it?" I replied. 

"Yes. Look," Dr. Stern said, gently picking up Harry's right hand and tilting it towards me. 

"What?" I asked. 

"See that small red mark?" he asked. 

I nodded. 

"People who are bulimic can get marks like that. It's from their teeth scraping their hand when they induce vomiting," he explained, "It usually only happens in the more severe cases." 

I stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was telling me. 

"Are you saying that Harry's bulimic?" I asked. 

"I'm saying that there is a very high probability that he is. I have to be honest with you, Liam. Had he not tried to commit suicide himself, he would have most likely died of malnutrition in the near future. He is severely underweight and I'm surprised that his body has been able to support itself for so long," he said. 

I bit my lip and kept my eyes trained on Harry's face. I noticed how tightly the skin was drawn across his cheekbones and as I studied his hand, I saw how slender his arms were. 

"What will happen when he wakes up?" I asked quietly. 

"He'll be kept on suicide watch for about five days and then we'll go from there. If he doesn't voluntarily enter himself into a rehabilitation program, then I think it would be best if he was made to do so under the condition that he is a threat to himself. We'll discuss the options more when he can speak for himself," Dr. Stern explained. 

"I think he's going to be really upset when he wakes up," I said quietly, "He really wanted to die." 

"Most of the people who commit suicide do want to die," he said dryly, "I have to go see some other patients, but don't be afraid to find me if you have any questions. No more than two visitors at a time right now and I suggest that until Mr. Tomlinson calms down, that he not be allowed to visit." 

I nodded and he left the room. 

I absently stroked Harry's hand and felt my eyes fill with the tears that I'd been pushing back in front of Dr. Stern. 

"You absolute idiot," I whispered, pushing his hair back from his face. 

I stayed in his room for about ten minutes when the door flew open. I looked up and saw Anne. 

"Liam!" she breathed. 

I looked at her and shrugged helplessly as she took in Harry's frighteningly still body. 

"Oh, Liam," she whispered, sitting down shakily next to me, "My baby tried to take his own life." 

I remained quiet. 

"I feel like I should have done something when he came home for Christmas. I knew that he was getting worse, mothers always know, but I couldn't bring myself to call his old therapist. I knew that he'd be upset if I did," she sniffed. I knew she was on the verge of tears. 

"You're not alone in feeling responsible. We all saw how skinny he was getting and that his cutting was getting worse. I feel so stupid for not doing anything," I sighed heavily, "And now it's come to this. He's lying in a hospital bed on suicide watch." 

"I wonder what it's like to love somebody that much and get nothing in return. I can only imagine how much it has to hurt," Anne said softly, "I've gotten my heart broken before, we all have, but this...my poor baby got it broken time after time and he couldn't fix it." 

"How are you holding up?" I asked. 

"I'm fine, I think. I'm just so relieved you got to him in time. I can't thank you enough for saving him, because I know it was you, Liam. I can't imagine that it was Louis or Niall dealing with something that horrifying and I figure that Zayn had to focus his attention on keeping them calm. So thank you, so much," she said earnestly. 

I blushed. 

"I couldn't have just watched him die. He's one of my best mates," I mumbled. 

She nodded and gently stroked his cheek, sighing. 

"Speaking of holding up, how is Louis?" she asked. 

"He's in shock right now, I think. But earlier, he was completely hysterical. I thought he was going to make himself sick," I sighed, "Harry wrote him a note. I think it explained everything and it's a lot for Louis to deal with all at once." 

Anne made a small noise of agreement. 

"Those two were always so close. I knew from the beginning that Harry liked Louis more than he should and I think that at the time, Louis returned the feelings when they were still two teenagers with crushes," she said. 

"And when Harry fell in love, so did Louis. But with a different person," I sighed. 

Anne nodded. 

"Gemma'll want to sit with him and I need to go check on the other lads," I said, standing. 

"Alright. Make sure you don't overwork yourself, okay Liam?" she said sternly. 

"I'll be fine, don't worry," I said, "I'll see you later." 

I walked back down to the waiting room and found Louis in the exact position I had left him in. Niall and Zayn had come inside and they looked up eagerly when they saw me. 

I sat down heavily next to Niall, the weight of the world pinning me down. 

"Found out that not only was he self-harming, but he's bulimic as well," I sighed. 

"That isn't entirely a surprise," Zayn said, "He was losing weight much too fast." 

"He was addicted to his anti-depressants as well." 

We turned to look at Louis, who had spoken. 

"What?" I asked. 

"Those pills you got him for his depression and his panic attacks, he's addicted to them," Louis repeated. 

I cursed under my breath. 

"He told me everything. Even things you didn't know," Louis said. 

"Please, Lou, can I read it? Please," I begged. 

Louis growled and tensed up, but shoved the paper into my hands. I was surprised at his sudden willingness, but I opened it quickly, lest he change his mind. 

As I read the letter, I felt the blood slowly drain from my face. I could literally feel how much pain Harry had been in when he wrote it. When I finished, I silently folded it and handed it back to Louis before turning to Niall and Zayn. 

"He told him everything."


	3. Chapter 3

Liam's POV

When the hospital finally requested that we leave, Louis all but threw a tantrum. He protested, saying that he had to see Harry as soon as he woke up, that he was Harry's best mate and deserved to stay. The staff, however, kindly insisted that we go home and get our rest and that we would be notified immediately if Harry woke up or if there was a change in his condition. I was somewhat surprised that Louis hadn't tried to play the 'boyfriend' card. 

Regardless of what the hospital said to reassure him, Louis was very much less than pleased. He spun around from the nurse talking to him and stormed out of the waiting room. Zayn, Niall, Paul and I exchanged worried looks and followed him. 

The hospital security had been keeping paparazzi and fans away, mostly so they could get ambulances in and out but also to protect us, but I knew that there had to be some outside. 

"Louis!" I called as I caught up to him, grabbing his shoulder. He jerked away from me, and I saw the furious look on his face as he did. 

"Leave me alone," he snarled. 

"Lou, there's probably paps out there. Paul needs to get all of us out of here together," I explained. 

He rolled his eyes. 

"Paps are the least of my worries right now," he growled, but he waited for Zayn, Niall, and Paul to catch up. 

"Come on, lads, lets get you home," Paul sighed, opening the door and letting us out in front of him. 

Predictably, a few people stood outside, and as soon as they caught sight of us, cameras were whipped out and questions started being shouted. 

We had all been trained to block them out, but I saw Louis's shoulders jerk each time a question was yelled like each question was a seperate stab between them. 

"Relax, Lou," I murmured, wrapping my arm around him. Paul herded us towards his van, but paparazzi followed. 

I could only imagine the pictures that would be on the Internet and in tabloids later. We all had red eyes and looked absolutely worn out and Louis was seething over the fact he couldn't stay. 

We finally reached the van, Paul helping us in before getting in the driver's seat himself. 

"Sorry about that. We tried to get as many off the premises as we could," he apologized. 

"It's fine, Paul," I sighed, "Can you take us all to my place? I don't think any of us really want to be alone right now." 

"Take me to mine. I need to talk to Eleanor," Louis interrupted before Paul could reply. 

"Are you sure, Lou?" I asked. 

He nodded. 

"If you want to come over later, you can," I offered. 

He nodded again and turned to look out the window. 

We dropped him off first and he got out silently. All of us pretended not to see the tears rolling down his face; he didn't want to talk, so we wouldn't make him. 

A few minutes later, Zayn, Niall and I were sprawled out on a couch, trying to find comfort in being close to one another. 

"He's going to be upset when he wakes up," Zayn said quietly, "He really didn't want to live anymore." 

Niall and I hummed our agreement. 

"What do you think will happen with him and Louis?" Niall asked. 

"Dunno. I just know that Lou's beating himself up over this. I mean, imagine if you were in his position. Your best mate tried to kill himself because he's so in love with you that life isn't worth living anymore," I sighed, "Harry told him that it wasn't his fault, but obviously Louis is blaming himself anyways." 

"I don't mean to sound bad or anything, but it sort of is Louis's fault, unintentionally of course. I know that he really couldn't have done much to help Harry, but still," Niall muttered. 

"So what did the doctor tell you, anyways?" Zayn asked. I hadn't told the other boys the rest or the conversation between Dr. Stern and I, not wanting to upset Louis further. 

"I already told you that he's fairly sure that Harry's bulimic. Apparently, with how much weight he's lost, he couldn't have survived much longer regardless," I admitted. 

"It makes me really feel horrible about never making him get help, you know? We could have, we all saw he wasn't well, but we never did. Now look what's happened," Niall sighed. 

"That's pretty much how everyone's feeling, Nialler," I replied, "The doctor did say that if Harry doesn't go to rehab willingly, he'll be forced or something." 

"It's for the best," Zayn commented. 

We stayed silent after that, lost in our own thoughts. Being half on top of each other was slightly uncomfortable, but none of us made the move to get up. We needed each other right then.

Louis's POV

I didn't really stay in my flat for long. 

I was relieved that Eleanor had left before I had gotten back because I really didn't want to see her. I was being overwhelmed by guilt, knowing that Harry was so in love with me that he had actually tried to kill himself. I couldn't understand how he had even fallen in love with me of all people. I felt sick remembering all the times I had gone on and on about how in love with Eleanor I was. I could only imagine how much that had hurt him. 

I remembered how close we had been during the X-Factor. We had admitted to having crushes on eachother. Only now did I realize that while I had always taken our crushes as a joke, Harry had been serious about it. I wondered when his crush had turned into love. 

A lot of things made sense to me, knowing that he was in love with me. I felt terrible for some of the things I had said to him during fights. 

At the same time, I was really angry with him. 

How selfish could Harry be? Didn't he know how much trauma he put us all through, his friends, his family, his fans? We were all going out of our minds with worry. I couldn't imagine what would have happened it we hadn't found Harry in time. Images of a still, seemingly lifeless Harry surrounded by a pool of his own blood flushed through my mind and I found myself getting dizzy and almost too horrified to stand. 

I waited for my heartbeat to slow and my vision to clear. I wondered it that was similar to how Harry had felt when he had a panic attack. I stood and left my flat and walked to Harry's, the cool air calming my racing heart. I was relieved to get to his place without any paparazzi and fans noticing me, but it was the middle of the night, so I couldn't have expected to have very many out. We'd gotten back from the hospital quite late. I shut the door to his flat behind me but went no further. 

I saw a blood-stained shirt that Liam had wrapped around Harry's wrist in an effort to make it stop bleeding. It must have been tossed to the side when real bandages had replaced it. I wondered where the other shirt was. 

I carefully ventured further inside. I approached his room and stood hesitantly in the doorway. I stated at the splatters of dried blood on the carpet. It was Harry's blood and the thought of that alone made me feel so sick that had to stumble across the room to sit down on his bed. 

I lay down and shut my eyes tightly, trying to block out my surroundings. There was still a faint, tangy scent of blood in the air, but the sweet yet spicy smell of Harry that clung to his bed masked it slightly. 

I had to smile, remembering when Harry and I had lived together and how if one of us was upset or couldn't sleep, we always went to each other's bed. That was essentially what I was doing, seeking comfort from Harry, even if he wasn't with me. 

I tried to fall asleep but each time I came close, images of blood and Harry and death forced me awake. When I opened my eyes, I saw the blood splatters on the floor. I felt suffocated, like I couldn't get away from it, but I didn't want to go back to my own flat. I jammed his pillow over my head and screamed, the sound muffled by his sheets. It felt good to release the tension that had been building inside of me and I wondered if that was why Harry cut himself. 

I sighed, not wanting for my thoughts to venture into that territory. 

I looked across the blood stains to the bottle of pills that was laying on its side. I was fairly sure they were sleeping pills. I wondered if it was morbid to take the same pills that almost killed my best mate and I quickly shook the idea away. 

I grabbed a remote off Harry's nightstand and turned his television on, relieved to find it on some random movie and not the news. A huge celebrity trying to kill himself would likely be everywhere on the news, especially a celebrity who lived in the area. 

I didn't pay much attention to the television, instead getting lost in my own thoughts of Harry, Harry, Harry. 

I had to have drifted off at some point early in the morning because the last thing I remembered was the sun rising and when I was shaken awake by my phone, it was lighter outside. 

I fumbled for my phone and hit answer, not checking who it was. 

"What?" I grumbled, exhausted from the lack of sleep I had gotten. 

"Louis!" 

"Li?" I asked, "You sound...freaked out, what's wrong? Harry's okay, right?" 

My heart started to beat quickly. Was he going to tell me that Harry had died in the night? 

"Lou, he's awake! Harry woke up!"

 

Liam's POV

I had learned two things in the past day. One, that blood is really hard to get out of clothes. Two, Louis could outrun an Olympian when he wanted to. 

I had to practically hold him back when he launched himself at the receptionists desk, demanding to know what room Harry was in. I didn't bother telling him that I knew; Dr. Stern had brought me there. 

The receptionist frowned at Louis. 

"He isn't in a state to receive visitors at the moment, sir," she said politely, "He's rather traumatized." 

Louis looked ready to hit the roof. 

"But I need to see him, you don't understand, I need to talk to him! I don't care if he's not ready for visitors, I'm like his brother!" Louis yelled. 

"Lou, calm down," I hissed, grabbing his arm. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but his mother is with him at the moment and only one visitor at a time, I'm afraid, and they must be immediate family," she said simply. 

"Louis, sit down, c'mon, I'm sure we'll be notified soon that we can see him," I said gently, firmly leading Louis to a seat. 

He sat down heavily and sighed irritably. 

"I just want to see my fucking best friend, what's so bad about that?" he snarled under his breath. 

I had to pity him. He'd gone through so much, more than anyone else other than Harry. He had seen his best friend dying and had been told that it was essentially his fault. I couldn't blame him for being upset. 

"Hey, Lou, I'm sure you'll be able to see him soon, okay? Just let him settle down a bit," I said. 

Niall tucked his feet underneath him and laid his head on Louis's shoulder. 

"We all wish we could see him," Niall murmured, "But we'll make sure you're first." 

Louis's lips twitched slightly in an effort to smile. 

We waited for a painfully long two hours before Dr. Stern approached us. 

"I think it's okay if Mr. Styles sees you now," he said. 

Louis jumped up and tried to push past Dr. Stern, who frowned. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tomlinson, but Mr. Styles specifically asked that you not be allowed to see him," Dr. Stern said. 

Louis snorted, "I'm his best friend, he's in love with me for christ's sake! I need to see him!" 

"I'm sorry, but he insisted that only Mr. Payne, Mr. Horan and Mr. Malik be permitted to see him. He was very, very adamant that you specifically not be allowed," Dr. Stern said. 

"You've got to fucking be joking!" Louis barked, his face turning red with anger. I didn't blame him. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm not," Dr. Stern replied. If Louis could ever hit someone in his entire life, it would have been Dr. Stern at that moment. 

"No, I-I need to see him, please!" Louis begged. 

"I have to consider what is best for Mr. Styles, and if he is that upset by his mother even mentioning you, Mr. Tomlinson, I feel that it is best to wait a bit until you can visit. I don't know how long the wait will be, but you'll see him eventually," Dr. Stern said mildly, as if he wasn't angering Louis beyond belief. 

"This is complete bullshit," Louis snarled, his looks showing anger, but the cracking in his voice revealing how upset he was, "Bullshit. Harry loves me, why doesn't he want to see me?" 

"I think that the trauma that he is going through is a little overwhelming and seeing you, who you say he is in love with, will probably make it too much for Mr. Styles to handle. Now, I must tend to other patients, and I trust that Mr. Payne can remember the way to Mr. Styles's room," Dr. Stern said calmly before walking away. 

Louis burst into angry tears and collapsed onto his chair, burying his face in his hands as his shoulders heaved. 

"Oh, Lou," I sighed, sitting next to him and pulling him into a hug. 

"It's n-not fa-air!" he wailed, "I just wa-wanna see him!" 

"I know, Lou, but maybe it is best if you take a little time for both of you to calm down a bit and adjust, yeah? You're still really emotional and I'm assuming that Harry is as well. Maybe he's waiting until he's calmed down enough, yeah?" I suggested. 

Louis shrugged angrily. 

"Just go fucking see him. I'll wait here all day just like yesterday," he grumbled, wiping away tears. 

"We can wait with you," Zayn said, "We won't go until you do." 

I could tell that Louis was genuinely considering the offer and I knew how upset he was that Harry was purposely ignoring him. 

"No. You should go. Just tell me everything, yeah?" he sighed miserably. 

I hated leaving him, but I really wanted to see Harry. I hesitated outside of the waiting room before leading Niall and Zayn up to Harry's room in the the intensive care unit. I was assuming they would move him to the psych ward after a few tests to make sure he was alright physically. 

When we approached his room, I noticed Gemma sitting against the wall. 

"Gemma?" I asked. 

She looked up, tears running down her face. 

"He went nuts when he woke up," she whispered, "Screamed and cried just because he's alive. My baby brother was doing that. I just can't...he's not Harry anymore." 

I sucked in a breath. I had suspected that Harry would be upset when he woke up, but Gemma was a really tough person and seeing her cry made me a little nervous to see him. 

"How is he now?" I asked tentatively. 

"I left about a half hour ago so he could talk to mum alone, but he was still going absolutely nuts. I've never...it's absolutely horrible. And when mum mentioned how happy you lads would be knowing that he was okay, especially Louis...," Gemma trailed off. We waited patiently for her to continue. 

"The second she said Louis's name...Harry just...his heart moniter started beeping like crazy and he started hyperventilating or something. It was really scary," she continued, "He said something about how he couldn't take anything else, especially not Louis." 

I bit my lip. 

"Panic attack," I muttered. 

She nodded. 

"Do you think it's okay if we see him now?" I asked. Niall and Zayn stood awkwardly next to me. 

"Knock first, but I think so," Gemma said. 

I took a deep breath and knocked. A few moments later, the door opened and Anne appeared. 

"I was half expecting Louis to be with you. I didn't think a measly doctor could hold him back from seeing my son," she murmured, keeping Harry from hearing her. 

"Trust me, Lou's furious," I replied, "I expected him to hit the doctor, actually." 

Anne looked behind her to where I assumed Harry was, then stepped outside with us before closing the door. 

"When you talk to Harry, do not mention anything that could even be related to Louis. Harry's very, very sensitive and upset right now and I'm honestly surprised he wants to see you boys. But I'm glad. I'll leave you alone with him now, but just remember, do not mention Louis," Anne warned, "And I think it's best if it's one at a time. We shouldn't overwhelm him." 

I nodded, as did Niall and Zayn. 

She smiled wearily at us and allowed me inside before closing the door behind me. 

Harry was half-sitting up, resting against several pillows. His eyes flickered over to me but he didn't say anything. 

"Hey, Harry," I said softly, sitting down in a chair that I assumed had been occupied by Anne. 

"It didn't work," he replied dully. 

I looked at him warily and his cold, emotionless eyes met mine. 

"I'm so glad it didn't. We all are," I whispered. 

"Yeah. That's what mum said," he said, "But I wish it did. I don't want to live." 

I sucked in a breath, fighting against the urge to cry. 

"Harry, I...you may not want to live right now, but you need to understand how much we all love you, okay? I've never seen our fans more supportive than they have been in the past day. Every single trend on twitter since they found out has been in support of us. I was so, so scared, Harry. I didn't know what I'd do without you if you succeeded. I need you, the lads need you. So many people need you," I whispered. He stiffened and I realized that I had unintentionally referenced Louis. 

"There's only so much that somebody can take. I reached my limit. If I didn't have so many bloody people around me, I'd have tried to off myself again already," he said, his voice still emotionless. 

"Harry...," I breathed. 

Gemma had been right. 

This wasn't Harry.


	4. Chapter 4

Louis's POV

I was angry, yeah. But I was mostly hurt, really hurt. 

Harry didn't want to see me. He'd see the other boys, but he was flat-out refusing to see me. He had to know that I'd be really upset about that, he'd even said in his letter how well he knew me. Yet, he'd still ordered that I be kept away. 

I puzzled over why he didn't want to see me. Maybe it was because he was scared of how I would react. He had to know how angry I was that he had tried to take his own life because of me. But he also had to know that I'd forgive him in a heartbeat if I could see him to tell him so. 

I shifted in the uncomfortable plastic chair and sighed. I had a feeling today was going to be another very long wait with little relief. 

I was sick of the boring waiting room, so I got up and located the cafeteria. I bought a flavorless-looking tea and sat down at a table to try and choke it down. 

When I decided that I didn't want something that I had my suspicions of being dirty dish water of, I threw it away and laid my head in my arms to try and forget about everything. 

Predictably, trying not to think about it just made me think about it more and soon, my shoulders shook as I tried to stifle my sobs. 

I just couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that Harry had tried to kill himself. Harry, my best mate, one of the friendliest, most optimistic people that I knew, had tried to kill himself. Well, he used to be one of the friendliest, most optimistic people that I knew. I realized that he hadn't been that way for a while. 

I felt a hand tap my back and I looked up. There was a girl staring next to me. 

"Are you okay?" she asked. 

She had to be a fan. Her eyes were wide with what I figured was excitement, but I saw worry there as well. 

"Not really," I sighed, wincing at the stuffy sound of my voice. 

"I heard, um, about Harry. Everyone's going crazy, you know. We're all really worried," she said, "I'm Molly, by the way." 

I smiled at her, but it probably come across as a grimace. 

"I'm just a little overwhelmed right now, sorry. It's nice to meet you," I said, "You can sit if you want." 

Molly nodded and sat down next to me. 

"I don't mean to be insensitive or anything, but I figured that you'd be with Harry," she commented. 

I snorted bitterly. 

"He's refusing to see me," I growled, "He was so in love with me that he tried to kill himself and now he's not even letting me see him!" 

I froze, realizing what I had said too late. 

"Shit, you're not...you can't...look, please, you can't tell anybody what I just said, okay?" I said urgently. 

Her eyes were even wider, but she nodded. 

"I don't really have anybody to tell, anyways. Trust me, nobody will find out anything," she assured me. 

I knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to trust her, but I already had too much to deal with, let alone the fans finding out that the reason Harry had tried to commit suicide was because he was in love with me. 

"Seriously, Louis. Even if I did tell people, it wouldn't seem very realistic. What could I say? 'Oh, I met Louis Tomlinson and he told me that Harry tried to kill himself because he was in love with Louis.' Nobody would believe me," Molly continued. 

I nodded. 

"A lot of people think that's the reason though," she said quietly, "You'd have to be blind not to see the way he looked at you." 

I winced. 

"Call me blind, then. I had to find out from a fucking letter when the rest of the world knew already," I said bitterly. 

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. 

"No, don't be. I'm just not in the best mood right now, obviously," I sighed, "I just feel so stupid. I should have realized it, shouldn't I? Everyone else did, so why didn't I?" 

Molly shrugged. 

"Maybe it's different when you're the person who somebody is in love with," she said. 

"I just feel so guilty. This mess is all my fault. I could have done something, but I didn't. I didn't even know he cut himself until a few months ago when he'd been doing it for nearly a year. I didn't see how skinny he had gotten. Christ, I should have seen it!" I growled, putting my head back in my arms. 

"My little brother, Keegan, is here because I wasn't watching him and he fell down a flight of steps. He landed really weird on the back of his neck. They're trying to figure out of he broke his back or not. And it really is my fault," Molly said. 

I raised my head. 

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. 

"It's fine. They think that he's fine, though, like the shock or something made his legs go numb. They're just waiting for him to wake up. My parents are blaming me, I can tell," she said, "But what happened to Harry, it's not really your fault. You couldn't have changed anything, even if you did know. He would have known if you tried to fake being in love with him." 

I shook my head. 

"I still feel so guilty though. And I just really want to talk to him, but he doesn't want to see me. He's talking to the other lads and his sister and mum, but he's apparently refusing to see me," I said. 

"You need to give him time. How would you feel if you woke up when you wanted anything but that? He's probably freaking out. Maybe he's just not ready to see you. He's so in love that he tried to commit suicide, remember that. Now he's alive and maybe it would only make him feel worse to see you, who he knows he can never have the way he wants," Molly suggested. 

I raised my eyebrows. 

"Christ, you should be a psychologist or something," I said. 

"Maybe," she said, giving me a small smile. 

"I just really wish I could talk to him. I miss him," I complained, "I haven't seen him in months." 

She looked at me, confused. 

"Harry's so...I don't know, he's been different for a while. I realized how far apart we'd grown too late and I wish I could have the Harry that I'm best friends with back," I explained, "Does that make sense?" 

"Yeah, it does," Molly said. 

I laughed softly. 

"I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you. I guess I couldn't stop once I got started. It was nice to talk to someone other than the lads," I said. 

"Louis Tomlinson basically just poured his heart out to me. I can't really complain," Molly said lightly. 

"I'm just a normal guy whose best friend fell in love with him and then everything turned to shit," I replied, attempting to joke. 

"Hey, Lou?" 

I looked up to see Liam a few feet away. 

"Yeah?" I asked. 

"Um...I really need to talk to you," he said. I noticed the unshed tears in his eyes and I stood quickly before turning back to Molly. 

"Do I follow you on Twitter?" I asked. 

"No," she replied. 

I got her Twitter name and promised to follow her. 

"Hey, tell me how your brother is, okay? It was really great talking to you," I said, smiling at her. 

"Not as great as it was talking to you," she said. 

I turned to leave. 

"Louis?" Molly asked. 

I turned back to her. 

"Uh, I really hope things work out with you and Harry. If you get the chance, make sure he knows that we're all supporting him," she added. 

I nodded and walked away to meet Liam. 

"Hey, what's up?" I asked. 

"Can you come outside with me? I need some air," he said stiffly. 

"Yeah, of course," I agreed. 

We walked in silence until we got outside. He led me to a bench a little ways away from the entrance. I saw paparazzi out of the corner of my eye, but they'd been warned to leave us alone. 

"I don't know who I just talked to, Louis, but that sure as hell was not Harry Styles," Liam spat bitterly as he sat down. 

"How is he?" I asked, figuring that he couldn't be doing well. 

"He's fucked up, Lou. He said something about how if there weren't people around him all the time, he would have already tried again. I'm scared," Liam whispered, a tear slipping out from his eye and rolling down his face. 

"Li," I said softly, putting my arm around him, not knowing what else to do. 

"I dunno what he said to Niall or Zayn, but Niall came out bawling and Zayn refused to talk to me. He should be out here somewhere, actually, knowing how much he's been smoking," Liam said, burying his face in my neck. 

"I wish I could see him," I sighed. 

"No you don't, Lou, you really don't. You guys aren't ready to see each other, trust me," Liam mumbled, "And don't get mad at me for saying that, either. You're stressed and upset enough as it is, and Harry's so far gone that seeing each other would be too much for you two right now." 

I grimaced, but I didn't argue. Liam had a point. I doubted I would take seeing Harry very well if he really was as bad as Liam was implying. 

"He's just not Harry. I keep picturing him as this kid who made the worst jokes and loved life and didnt have a care in the world other than getting through the next week of the X-Factor. And now he's this...kid still, but now he's got scars all the way to his elbows and thighs and he's so underweight that he shouldn't have even been able to live as long as he has and he wants to die more than anything else. I feel like there's been a mix-up or something, like I've been seeing the wrong Harry Styles this whole time and the real one is in a different room because he hurt himself slipping on stage or something stupid. I just can't believe this is what he turned into," Liam choked. 

I felt my shoulder getting wet as he broke down, crying into my shirt. I couldn't keep tears of my own from collecting in my eyes. 

"But this is real, Li. As much as we don't want it to be, this is real."

I was beginning to think that it wouldn't hurt to just bring in a bed and move into the waiting room. 

I'd been there for four days straight since Harry tried to kill himself and I was literally ready to lose it. 

I was bored out of my mind and I was going to flip my shit if I couldn't see Harry. 

According to the lads, Harry wasn't doing much better. After he'd been moved to the psych ward, he'd been taken off the IVs and the heart moniter and whatever other things he'd been hooked up to, but he was required to eat a certain number of calories per day or they'd put him back on an IV again. Liam had told me that Harry was eating just the right amount of calories, nothing more, nothing less. 

On a positive note, I'd found out that Molly's brother was okay and he just had a minor concussion and a broken wrist. She'd asked me if I'd talked to Harry yet, and I answered with the infuriating truth, no, I hadn't. 

"Hey, Lou?" 

I looked up to see Liam, Niall, and Zayn standing in front of me. It occurred to me how tired they looked, and I knew that I was just the same. 

"Can I see him now?" I asked, already knowing the answer. 

"Sort of," Liam replied hesitantly. 

Okay, that was not what I had been expecting. 

"What do you mean, sort of?" I asked slowly. 

"Well...apparently he was given some medication that put him asleep and we figured maybe you could go see him while he's sleeping," Liam said. 

I narrowed my eyes. 

"So I had to wait until he was drugged and asleep to talk to him? When I say I want to talk to him, I'm implying that I want him to talk to me as well!" I snapped. 

Their eyes softened with pity and I immediately felt guilty for getting mad at them. It wasn't their fault. 

"Lou, you know we wish it didn't have to be that way either," Niall said gently. 

"Yeah. I'm sorry," I mumbled, "Can I see him now? Or do I need to wait? Cause I've gotten really good at that." 

"Yeah. You can see him now," Liam said. 

I stood up and allowed them to lead me to Harry's room.

 

Harry's POV

Honestly, I had never been given any medication and I wasn't at all tired. Tired of life, maybe, but not physically tired. 

I'd just wanted some space for once. If it wasn't my mum or Gemma breathing down my neck, it was one of the lads. I hated seeing the pain and hurt in their eyes and knowing that I had caused it. I didn't have the strength to pretend any more, so they were seeing the real me, who I had become. 

And Louis, Louis who I knew was probably going out of his mind being kept away from me. I knew seeing him would just make everything harder, so I begged the doctor to keep him away. I saw the way the lads danced around anything that could be related to Louis, which I appreciated. My dreams were already plagued by him, reality didn't need to be. 

I shifted on the bed and sighed deeply, studying my wrists. The horizontal mess of cuts with two dark vertical lines running down them mesmerized me and I ached for a razor. 

I heard the door open and I stayed where I was on my side, figuring it was a nurse. 

Then the painfully familiar scent hit me and I froze. 

"Hazza?" 

I shut my eyes tightly. He wasn't supposed to be here; he needed to get out. 

"Haz? You awake?" Louis asked softly, and I heard him sit down on a chair next to my bed. 

I didn't reply. He could think I was asleep if it would make this easier. I didn't know how he could think I was sleeping. My whole body was ridged and I was struggling to control my breathing. 

"I really miss you, you know," Louis added a few moments later, and I felt his hand run through my hair. It felt so good that I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. I hated when people touched my hair, but when Louis did, it felt absolutely wonderful and calming. 

"These past few days have been really hard, Haz, but I can only imagine that you've got it worse. I just...I can't even sleep. Every time I try, I just keep seeing you lying in a puddle of your own blood on your floor," Louis said, and I noted how weary he sounded. 

"I knew that you weren't doing well, and I should have done something, I know, but I never expected you to..." Louis paused, and I heard the catch in his voice during the last few words. 

"I never expected you to actually try and take your own life and I never expected you to be in love with me and I never expected to be sitting here, praying to God you don't wake up so I can keep talking to you and I just never expected any of this to happen. It's just all so confusing and overwhelming and I'm so scared and worried and really fucking tired," Louis burst out, and I could hear the tears in his voice as his hand removed itself from my hair. 

"Why are you in love with me anyways? I'm just Louis, there's nothing special about me. You've got the whole world, why me? You should love somebody who can love you back the way you want and I can't do that. I know it's not really your choice, but did it really have to be me, Haz? I just hate seeing you hurting so much and I can't stop feeling so fucking guilty all the time," he sniffed, "The lads keep telling me how you're not you anymore, but I think I know that you haven't been you since you fell in love with me, isn't that right? That's when everything changed and you became this person that none of us recognize." 

I kept my eyes shut tightly and stayed still, but I wanted to roll over and hug him tightly. I hated hearing how scared and helpless he sounded. I saw those same emotions in my family and friends, but coming from Louis, they were so much different. They were why I hadn't wanted to see him. I knew how he would affect me. 

"The fans are scared shitless too, Haz. I haven't really been on Twitter other than to message this fan I met a few days ago, but I know the fans are going crazy. I'm going crazy too, I think. We're supposed to do an interview in two days. I wish you could do it with us, but that would be way too much, wouldn't it? I don't know, Christ, I don't know anything anymore, Haz. I just know that I love you. I know it's not how you want me to, but just know that I do love you with all my heart," he whispered. 

My heart skipped a beat. He'd said so himself, it wasn't how I wanted, but just hearing him say he loved me made my heart swell. 

"Haz...I really need you to talk to me. I know you're just as overwhelmed as I am, probably more, but I miss you so much," he sighed. 

Louis gently picked up my hand from where it was in front of my face. He studied my cuts and I heard his breath hitch when he saw the vertical ones, the ones intended to kill. 

"I can't believe that I made you have to resort to this, Haz," he choked. He kissed the cuts carefully before putting my hand back down. I shivered involuntarily, but he didn't appear to notice. 

"Li's waving at me to get out. I think we're going to get dinner or something. The hospital food really sucks, but you know that," he said lightly. I smiled slightly, glad he couldn't see my face. The hospital food really was terrible. 

"Hazza...I just need you to know how much I love you and how much I miss you, okay? I'll see you soon, hopefully," he said softly. I heard him get up from his chair and walk away before hesitating. 

"Get better, Hazza. For me."


	5. Chapter 5

Liam's POV

"Harry, come on," I said quietly, "He's going to be really upset." 

Harry stared stonily over my shoulder, his eyes expressionless. I knew that no amount of persuasion could change his mind. 

"Why are you doing this to him? Six months, Harry. You're refusing to see him for six months," I mused, irritated with Harry. 

He didn't say anything. He hadn't said anything to me since Louis had talked to him the previous night and he was apparently silent with Zayn and Niall as well. 

"You're hurting him," I tried, "And I know you're hurting too, but he's already angry and upset enough because you've refused to see him for five days. Now you're adding six months." 

Harry simply blinked before turning around and stuffing a shirt in a suitcase. 

We were at his flat, packing his stuff for rehab. I'd checked him out an hour prior with strict instructions to take him to his rehabilitation center as soon as he finished packing and not to take my eyes off of him. Anne had had to go home to talk with her work about a temporary leave, so Paul was acting as Harry's guardian. Harry didn't seem to notice the blood that was still on the floor, nor that his bed had quite obviously been slept in. 

I felt nothing but pity knowing that Louis probably never went back to his own flat, instead choosing to go to Harry's. I wondered if having to face such a horrific memory every night contributed to Louis's sleep deprivation or if he wouldn't be able to sleep regardless of where he was. 

"Are you mad that you have to go to rehab?" I asked quietly, handing him a pair of jeans. 

No response. 

"Harry, I just...it would be one thing if you were gone for like six weeks, but six months? That's half a year that you're going to be ignoring him for. He's going to be furious. Just...you can change your mind whenever, yeah?" I tried. 

Silence. 

I sighed heavily and caught my weary expression in Harry's mirror. I looked tired and worried, but I knew that compared to Louis, I was well-rested and worry-free. He'd never mentioned not being able to sleep, but the bags under his eyes and how the exhaustion paled his skin told it all. 

I realized suddenly how much more pressure Louis had on his shoulders compared to the rest of us. Louis had a new fiancée that he was basically ignoring because his best friend had tried to commit suicide because he was madly in love with Louis. I was stressed, but I didn't have a fiancée, nor was I the reason for Harry trying to commit suicide. 

"I don't know how he'll take it. He's got so much on his shoulders already, Harry. What's the harm that him visiting you can do?" I asked. 

Harry zipped his suitcase and disappeared into his bathroom. He emerged with toothbrush and other toiletries. 

"I think you're being downright cruel, honestly," I finally sighed, picking up a second suitcase and following him out of his flat. He locked the door and I considered telling him to forget it, Louis would probably just unlock it later. 

"Look, I'm going to go back to the hospital and tell Louis what's up, then we'll go to the center, okay?" I told him, not expecting a response. I heaved his suitcases into my car and got into the driver's seat. 

He looked out the window of my car but I saw the way that his fingers clenched slightly. 

I drove in silence, wondering if trying to get him to talk was worth it or if waiting for him to decide when to talk was better. I supposed that I would tell his therapist or nurse or whatever about his new silence whenever we arrived at the rehabilitation center. 

We approached the hospital and I parked my car a little ways farther away than I necessarily had to, hoping that if paparazzi saw me, they wouldn't see my car with Harry inside. 

"Wait right here, alright?" I instructed. 

He didn't acknowledge my instructions, instead choosing to continue staring out of the window. 

I climbed out and locked the doors. I knew that I really wasn't supposed to leave Harry alone, but I had to tell Louis that Harry wasn't even in the hospital anymore. I headed towards the hospital, ignoring the paparazzi as I got closer to the doors. 

I entered and immediatly went to the waiting room that Louis had spent so much time in. Predictably, I found him perched on his usual plastic chair, his expression completely void of emotion as he stared at the ground. Zayn and Niall sat next to him, talking quietly. They knew that Harry had already been checked out. Louis was really the only one who didn't. Harry had apparently told Dr. Stern that he didn't want Louis seeing him before he left for rehab, and this was somehow the plan we had come up with. 

"Lou?" I called softly as I approached him. He looked up, his expression changing into one of curiosity. 

"Yeah?" he asked. 

"Can we talk...um outside?" I asked. I knew he would end up making a scene and having him freak out in the middle of the waiting room again would not be good. 

"Yeah, sure," he said, standing up. He moved stiffly as he trailed behind me and it became clear to me just how long he'd been sitting in that same chair. Every day for five days, for the entire nine hours of the visiting period, getting up to wander around occasionally, but always coming back to the same chair. 

I didn't go outside of the hospital, knowing that there was paparazzi, so I stayed just inside of the doors. 

"Lou, I need to tell you something," I said slowly. Zayn and Niall hovered by me. 

Louis raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to speak. 

"Harry's already checked out. We um, we're taking him to rehab right after this," I said. 

"Okay?" Louis said. 

"Lou, um, you can't come. With us, I mean, to the center," I mumbled. I hated having to be the one to break the news that Harry was refusing to see him for six months to him, but Niall would have probably started crying when Louis did, which left me and Zayn. I had decided to be nice and offer to do it, an offer I regretted. 

"What do you mean I can't come?" Louis growled. He knew exactly what I meant; I could see it in his narrowed eyes. 

"You can't come to the center, Lou, exactly what I said," I repeated. 

"So I wait here for five days straight without him acknowledging me just to be completely blown off and ignored?" he snarled, "No goodbye, no 'thanks for sitting on your ass for no reason', nothing? He's just going to rehab without even thinking about how I feel. Well, I can visit him, right?" 

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. Louis was already angry that he couldn't take Harry to rehab. I didn't want to find out how livid he would be when I told him the rest. 

"Right? I can visit him?" Louis pressed, his eyes pleading. 

"Lou, he um...he," I started, looking at Zayn helplessly. 

"Harry asked that you not be put on the list of permitted visitors," Zayn finished quietly. 

Louis didnt reply immediatly and I dared to look at him. 

His face was bright red with anger and his nails were visibly digging into his palms. 

"You're to be fucking kidding me," he spat. 

"Lou, I wish we weren't, and I swear that we've tried to change his mind, but..." I trailed off. 

"But I mean absolute shit to him, apparently. God, I just...fuck!" he spat, eyes filling. 

"Oh, Lou, he can always change his mind. Just give him some time," I said, trying to comfort him. 

"Yeah, that's what everyone keeps telling me! I just need to give him some time! Well, I'll give him six fucking months then! I'll give him all the time in the fucking world! If I mean shit to him, then he means shit to me!" Louis yelled. 

A woman walking into the building gave him an indignant look as she passed by us. 

"That's not true, Louis. He loves you, you know that. But that's the problem. He just needs to adjust, okay? He needs to heal a little bit first," Niall squeaked. He hated when people yelled. 

"He loves me? Like a brother, or a friend, or a fucking lover? You gotta specify, cause I don't fucking know anymore! I need to talk to him and have him talk back more than anything else. I need to heal too, yeah? I can't believe you would let him do this to me!" Louis snarled at Niall. 

Niall flinched and pressed closer to Zayn. 

"Louis, calm down," Zayn growled, "You're overreacting." 

I honestly thought Louis was going to hit him. Louis's eyes blazed with so much anger and hurt that I found myself scared for our safety. 

"I'm overreacting? I won't see my best friend for six months! Don't you get how important seeing him is to me? I need to figure this whole mess out and I'm going to go fucking crazy with all these questions stuck in my head for six more months! You don't get it! You're not the one he's in love with! You're not the one with this gigantic weight holding you down and you're not the one finding out that you're going to have this weight on you for half of a year! You might as well put me in some institution too because I'm going to go fucking mental!" Louis screamed. 

Paul appeared suddenly, I wondered where he had come from in the back of my mind, and he grabbed Louis's arm. 

"Louis, you've got to settle down. Just take a deep breath, okay?" he murmured. 

Louis jerked out of his grip. 

"No!" he snapped, "And you can forget that interview later too, cause I'm not putting up with some interviewers bullshit questions!" 

"I'm going to take you home, and you have to do that interview, Louis," Paul said gently. 

We all knew that saying that was a mistake, even Paul. 

"Harry can refuse things, so why can't I? Or does trying to off himself just make him so fucking special all of a sudden? I don't care, I'm done with this," Louis snapped. 

He stormed past us, his shoulder hitting mine hard enough for it to he painful, and shoved the doors open. I jogged after his retreating figure. Paparazzi raised their cameras, seeing how angry and distressed Louis was. I was irritated at the flashes from the cameras, and apparently Louis was as well. He stopped cold. 

"Can you just get out of my face for once you fucking twats?" he screeched, breaking into a run for his car. 

I didn't bother chasing him any further. I knew that he needed to be alone. I went back inside and shrugged in defeat. 

"He just pissed off the paparazzi," I sighed. 

"What'd he say?" Paul asked. 

"'Get out of my face, you fucking twats' or something like that," I replied. 

Paul groaned. 

"Please tell me none of them got that on video," he said. 

"I don't know. But probably," I admitted. 

"Jesus Christ," Paul muttered, "Well, lets go take care of Harry." 

We headed out of the doors, once again having to ignore the paparazzi. They were even more insistent than usually, pressing to know what had Louis so upset. 

"If you could let us through, please," Paul said calmly. 

The paparazzi trailed after us, keeping a careful distance as we walked to my car. 

"I didn't think about them seeing Harry in the car. We'll just have to hurry out of here," Paul murmured in my ear. 

"Do you want to drive?" I asked. 

"If you want," he replied. 

I shrugged. 

"You probably should. 'Popstar Runs Over Paparazzi' wouldn't be a very good headline. I just want to get Harry out of here," I said. 

Paul chuckled, "I'm sort of tempted to run over one of them always." 

I saw my car and Harry's slouching form and hurried towards it, handing Paul my keys. 

The paparazzi started taking pictures, seeing Harry. 

I crawled inside my car, Niall and Zayn following me. 

"Hey Harry," Paul grunted as he slid inside. Harry stayed silent and Zayn sighed at his lack of response. 

The hour long drive to the center was extremely tense. None of us really talked. I went on a following spree on Twitter, wincing as I saw a link to a video of Louis yelling at the paparazzi. 

"Yeah, Paul, the video's already up," I sighed. 

"That's wonderful," Paul growled, "I really wish he wouldn't have done that." 

Harry stayed quiet and still, but I figured he was wondering what had happened. 

"Louis was upset after we told him about your decision and he might have called the paparazzi 'fucking twats'," I explained. 

It felt slightly weird, telling somebody something but not getting any sort of reaction. 

We parked at the center and Harry got out, standing up and stretching. I handed him one of his suitcases and Paul took the other. We headed inside. 

It looked like a really nice place, which I had assumed it would be. It had an extremely good reputation, management had made sure of that. 

"Hello, how can I help you?" the receptionist asked, smiling brightly. 

"Harry Styles," Harry said softly, "I'm checking in." 

I wasn't entirely sure if I had expected him to talk or not, but Niall looked at him in surprise. Apparently he was just ignoring us. 

"Oh, right. I'll have someone take you to your room right away," she said politely. 

She got up and headed into a room behind the desk. 

She came out with a young man, who walked out from behind the desk. 

"Hello. I'll show you to your room, okay?" he said, shaking hands with each of us. 

He led us down a hallway and to an elevator, then down two more hallways before stopping at another room. He knocked on the door, then walked inside. 

I raised my eyebrows. It was a really nice room. There were two beds, a couch, a television, two desks, what looked like two closets and a door which I assumed led to a bathroom. 

"This is your room," the man said, "You've got a roomate, actually, but I think he's at a session right now." 

I assumed session meant therepy. 

Harry nodded. 

"I need to check your suitcases, if that's okay with you," the man said. 

We watched quietly as he rummaged through Harry's things, checking each pocket and zipper and every little crevice. I knew that Harry hadn't packed any razors or pills, I'd watched carefully, but I felt reassured knowing that somebody else was checking. 

"I'll go see if your doctor is available, then I'll be right back," the man said, disappearing. 

Harry walked over to the unmade bed and set his stuff down. 

"Do you mind if you have a roomate?" I asked. 

He shrugged. I smiled. It was an improvement. 

He continued to unpack while Paul, Niall, Zayn, and I stood around awkwardly for several minutes. 

The door opened again and a woman and the young man appeared. 

"Hello," she said. The young man backed out and shut the door. 

"I'm Harry," Harry said, reaching out to shake her hand. 

"I'm your doctor. You can call me Aysiah," she said. 

I raised my eyebrows at the first-name-basis, but decided that I actually kind of liked the comfortable vibe that it gave me. 

She handed Paul a clipboard. 

"That's just some information we need, basic things. We've already gotten confirmation from his mother to allow you to act as his guardian for the time being. So Harry, I'll have a private session with you later, but this is just an introduction type thing while your friends are still here, okay?" Aysiah said. 

"Alright," Harry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she sat down by the desk. 

"Well, as you know, you'll be here for several months. Usually people who try to commit are only here for a month or two, but because there is a record of self-harm and an eating disorder, we decided that it was best that you stay here longer in order to help you with those as well," Aysiah began, "You'll have a session with me every day, but you can also go to group sessions if you want. They're strongly recommended, but you don't have to if you don't want to. You'll have a meal plan for the first two weeks, but after that, you just have to eat a certain amount of calories per day. We will have to moniter you if you ever need a razor to shave, and you've already gotten your bags checked." 

Harry nodded slowly. 

"I'm sorry if it seems like I'm talking a lot, but it's the procedure," Aysiah apologized. 

"It's fine," Harry replied. 

"I'll get somebody to give you the grand tour. It's a rather nice place, if I say so myself, but I'm a little bit biased of course," she chuckled. 

She got up and disappeared out of the door. 

"She seems really nice, Harry," Zayn said. 

He shrugged again. I decided that that was probably the most we would get out of him. 

Aysiah reappeared, the same young man with her. 

"He'll show you around. Say goodbye to your friends. They'll need to leave so you can settle in once you get back," she said. 

"Bye, Harry. We'll visit, yeah?" I heard Zayn mutter as he gave Harry a tight hug. Niall was next, then Paul. 

"Harry, we'll come as often as we can. See you soon," I murmured in his ear. 

He shuffled over to the man quietly. 

"Show me around," he prompted. They left. 

"Is there anything you need to tell me?" Aysiah asked, "Any background information?" 

"Do you have it like on record of why he tried to kill himself?" Zayn asked. 

"Yes. Because he fell in love with someone who didn't return his feelings, right?" Aysiah replied. 

"Yeah. Well, Harry's like...shutting Louis, the guy he fell in love with, out completely. He refused to talk to him in the hospital, and he refused to put Louis on the list of approved visitors. We don't really know why he doesn't want to see Louis, but Louis is going crazy because of it. Anyways, Harry's also just stopped talking to us since this morning. We don't know why," Zayn said. 

Aysiah nodded slowly, taking the clipboard from Paul. 

"I'll talk to him about it, but if he doesn't want you guys knowing, I can't tell you. Patient confidentiality," she said, "Is that all?" 

"Just...I think Louis is a bit of a sensitive subject for Harry, so be a little careful when you bring it up," I added. 

"Alright. If that's all, I have an appointment in a few minutes, so I need to be going," Aysiah said, standing up, "It was nice meeting you." 

We said our goodbyes and left the facility.

Louis's POV

I heard the door open, but I didn't move. I didn't know if I could. I'd been crying for the past two hours straight until the bloodstain on the carpet blurred into the rest of the room. 

Did I really mean so little to Harry that he wouldn't see me for six months? I knew that couldn't be true. You didn't just suddenly not care about somebody that you had been so in love with for so long. 

I shut my eyes and inhaled the comforting scent of Harry that was left on his bed. 

I had no idea why I kept coming to Harry's flat. I knew that it probably wasn't helping my any, but I liked the brief sense of security that his bed gave me. 

"Hey, mate," Zayn said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

I didn't reply, hugging Harry's pillow closer to my chest. 

"You coming to the interview?" he asked gently. 

"I said no, Zayn," I spat weakly. I was exhausted and I was in no mood to be asked prying questions by a stranger. 

"Okay. Management said you didn't have to and that you could take it easy for a while," he replied. 

"Good," I grumbled. 

"Look, Lou, I...we all feel really bad about what Harry's doing to you. He's being a dick, but I think that he's got his reasons. He's not talking to us anymore for some reason," Zayn said. 

"At least he'll let you see him," I retorted, sitting up. My head spun and my eyes burned from crying. 

"Yeah. The rehab place is really nice, by the way. We met his therapist and I think she'll really help him. We asked her to talk to him about you. Maybe he'll let you see him in a while, whenever he gets a little better. He's just so broken right now, Lou," Zayn sighed. 

"I've learned not to get my hopes up," I mumbled. 

"I have to go in a bit. We're running a little late for the interview already but we thought we might as well ask if you we're coming," he said. 

I nodded. 

He pulled me into a hug and I relaxed in his arms. I hadn't realized just how badly I had needed this, a simple, reassuring hug. 

"I think he'll be okay, Lou. I think we'll all be okay," he murmured.

Liam's POV

We weren't a half hour late for the interview or anything. 

Thankfully, we still had a half hour before we had to be onstage, but Lou had to rush to get our makeup and hair done. It didn't help that we all looked absolutely terrible due to the stress of the past few days. 

When we were finally deemed ready to go on, we were a few minutes late, so we got microphones quickly clipped to our shirts and we were rushed out onstage. 

It was a live interview, but without an audience, which I was grateful for. 

"Hello, boys," the woman said. I hadn't had time to learn her name. I hated not being able to address people by their names. 

"I'm Julie," she said. 

Oh thank God. 

"Hello," we chimed in synch. 

"So, obviously, you boys have had quite the eventful past few days. Do you want to say anything about the recent events?" she asked. 

"Well, as I'm sure quite a lot of people know, Harry did try to commit suicide five days ago. He did have a reason behind it, but we've decided to keep his reasoning private unless he feels comfortable disclosing that. But it had absolutely nothing to do with the fame or the fans or the press, we're trying to stress that. It was something that was very personal to him," I said. 

"I'm sure it's been very difficult for you," she said. 

"Yeah, it really has. We were, uh, we were actually the ones that found him. It was really...it was really horrifying to see him like that, but we acted pretty quickly," I said softly. 

"I don't think people can understand just how scary it is to think that one of your best friends might die right in front of you. It was easily the most terrifying moment in my entire life," Zayn added. 

We'd decide to be pretty open about the situation. We knew that our fans deserved to know about what had happened. 

Julie nodded, her forehead crinkling sympathetically. 

"I can only image how hard this must be hitting you guys. I know that your fans went absolutely crazy when you broke the news," she said. 

"Yeah. But they've been extremely supportive and we appreciative of that," Niall said. 

"We're all dealing with it in stride, I guess. I'd like to think we're doing pretty well as far as everything goes, but it still is pretty rough. That's actually why Louis isn't here. He's taking it a lot harder than the rest of us because he and Harry are really close. He was actually with him right before everything happened, so he's just taking it pretty hard," I said carefully, skirting around the fact that Louis was actually the reason that Harry had tried to kill himself. 

"I can only imagine. So you guys are pushing back your world tour? How is that going to affect you?" Julie asked. 

"Yeah. We can't tour as One Direction with Harry missing and he'll be in rehab for the next six months. I hope our fans can understand," I said. 

"I think that they'll be very supportive of you guys. You have a strong fan base," Julie said, "So are you guys going to be doing much of anything for the next six months?" 

"I think that the three of us, plus Louis, will probably still be doing interviews and promotion, but as far as music, we can't do much with a band mate missing. I think we'll have a lot of time off, which will be nice," Zayn said. 

"I think we might work on writing some songs ourselves too. But we'll be visiting Harry a lot as well," Niall added. 

"Give him all of our good wishes and make sure he knows that everyone's supporting him," Julie said, "But that's all the time we have." 

We said our goodbyes and exited. 

It was a short interview, but we were exhausted and none of us were in the mood for anything but sleeping.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis's POV

I spent ten hours lying in Harry's bed, shielding myself from the world with his duvet. Eventually, I decided that my bladder might burst and I got up. 

I stepped gingerly over the bloodstain, wrinkling my nose. I knew that I should probably clean it up, or at least attempt to. Something told me that it wouldn't come out. I decided to consult Liam about it if I ever forgave him for letting Harry just ignore me. 

I knew that it wasn't any of the lads' fault. It was Harry's, but I could make myself mad at Harry, so instead, I blamed the other lads. 

Once I had relieved myself, I explored his kitchen. When I found nothing but expired milk, lettuce, and old take away, I had to force myself to walk away. I couldn't bare the evidence of how severe Harry's eating disorder- disorders?- had gotten. 

I returned to Harry's room and sat down on his bed. I remembered how I had found Harry throwing up during rehearsal. Then, I had believed him when he said that he was just sick. Now, I realized how stupid I had been. 

What if I could have prevented his attempt at suicide by realizing he had an eating disorder? I could have out him in rehab before he could have gotten worse. I felt sick at the thought. 

I should have known that he hadn't been ill; I should have heard the lie, or seen it in his eyes. 

Harry was a terrible liar. When had I started believing all of his lies? When had I gotten so blind? 

I had so many questions and I was being denied the answers. I couldn't sleep with the noise of all the questions in my head. The only person who could fully answer them was Harry and he wasn't doing so. 

His letter had made me think of more questions rather than answering them. 

I wondered if I was more angry at Harry than anything else. I certainly wasn't happy. I was scared and worried for him, yeah, but I was so, so angry. 

I sighed, exhausted from the battles within my mind. I doubted that I had gotten more than three hours of sleep collectively in the past five days. 

I glance at my phone, turned off and silent next to Harry's bed. I'd been completely ignoring Eleanor ever since Harry had been rushed to the hospital. I realized that I was ignoring her just like Harry was ignoring me, but I wasn't doing it intentionally, nor was I doing it for six months. 

I reluctantly reached for my phone, turning it on. I winced as I saw the numerous missed calls and messages. I listened to the calls from my family, concerned about how I was holding up, management saying that it was okay to relax for a few days, the lads calling for miscellaneous things, and the insane amount of calls from Eleanor. 

I called my mum first, assuming her that I was doing fine, no, I didn't need to go home, Christ, yes, I was really okay, tell the girls I loved them, goodbye. 

I kept the conversation short, wanting to call Eleanor as soon as possible. I felt guilty for essentially forgetting about my fiancée. 

"Hey, love," I said quietly as she picked up. I suddenly felt uncomfortable talking to her in Harry's room, so I got up and moved to his balcony. 

"Louis, where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick about you! And about Harry! I had to call Liam to know what was going on because you wouldn't answer!" Eleanor said. 

She sounded more relieved than angry, which I decided was a good sign. 

"I know, and I'm so sorry, babe. I've just been so...overwhelmed," I said. Nothing I could think of was a valid excuse for ignoring her. 

"Liam said that you haven't really been dealing well," she prompted. 

"I guess I haven't, but it's just so much to take in. I nearly killed my best mate, El, it's all my fault. You knew he fell in love with me, didn't you? You figured it out when he left," I said quietly. 

"Yeah, I did. I should have done something; I should have told you so that we could go get him. Maybe we could have stopped him before he tried anything. Look, darling, it's not your fault. We all could have done something differently, but none of us did, and we can't blame ourselves. It's Harry's own fault that he let himself go so far," she said. 

I felt a surge of anger and protectiveness as she blamed Harry, but I knew that she was right. 

"El, I'm so sorry for not calling you. I feel so stupid, seeing as all I've been doing is sitting in a plastic chair and counting ceiling tiles for the past five days," I sighed, swallowing my unnecessary irritation. 

"It's alright. Harry's been your main priority. I've just been really worried about you, love. I know that you sometimes don't deal with stress well," she said. 

I smiled, knowing that she was referring to my several blow-ups on Twitter. The smile faded as I realized how badly they must have hurt Harry. 

He had never told me that he was hurting. He had never told me anything. 

"He wouldn't talk to me at the hospital; he wouldn't even let me see him. And now he's not going to allow me to visit him either. Six months, El, that's how long it is until I can see him again," I spat bitterly. 

She made a soft, sympathetic noise. 

"I don't know what I can say, Lou. I know how much you need to talk to him. Maybe you could write down everything you want to say to him. Maybe it'll help you get it off your chest," she suggested. 

"You should be a therapist. Even better, Harry's therapist. That way you could tell me what the hell is going on with him," I grumbled. 

Eleanor laughed, "I wish that I could do that for you. But even if I had the qualifications, he wouldn't want to see me. I'm the one that took you away from him." 

The temporary relaxed feel of our conversation vanished and I gripped the phone tightly. 

"You took me away from him," I repeated angrily, "If that's how he feels about it...! He doesn't own me; I'm not a dog!" 

"Louis calm down. He knows that he doesn't literally own you. You know that you two haven't been as close since you met me, and I'm pretty much to blame for that. I took your attention off of him," she soothed, "He never got the chance to see if you loved him like he loves you." 

I sighed heavily and sat down against the wall, feeling more exhausted than I had before the conversation had started. 

"But I didn't. I never did. Did I lead him on, El? He told me that I kissed him at that party the night before I introduced him to you. He told me that he was so excited that I might love him back, and god, I can't even imagine how badly I must have hurt him when I told him that I had a girlfriend the next fucking day. And then he said that...the night that you broke up with me..." I stopped. 

I didn't know if I could tell her that I slept with Harry. I didn't feel disgusted, but I felt so ashamed. I'd hurt Harry so badly, and I'd hurt Eleanor by telling her. I hadn't necessarily cheated on her, because we technically hadn't been together, but I felt guilty anyways. 

"You can tell me anything, Lou, you know that," she assured me. 

"He and I slept together," I whispered. 

She was quiet. I heard her soft breathing on the other line but nothing else. 

"And afterwards, I told him that I loved him, but I called him by your name, El! I don't want to know how many times I've broken his heart because I can't even forgive myself for the times that I already know! It is my fault, no matter what you say! I held his heart and I fucking shattered it! He tried to commit suicide because of me! He cut because of me, he was bulimic because of me, he was addicted to his fucking pills because of me! Can't you see, El? It's all because of me. It's my fault!" 

By the end of my rant, I was shuddering with anger and held-back tears. 

"Louis, calm down, just take a deep breath, alright?" Eleanor murmured. 

I took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled slowly. 

"Do you want me to call one of the lads to come and stay with you?" she asked. 

"I'm fine. I just need to relax," I said. 

"Okay. Call me if you need anything, alright?" she said sternly. 

"Okay. I love you," I whispered, slipping back inside. 

"I love you too, Louis," she replied. 

With that, we hung up. 

I headed back into Harry's room. Instead of curling up on his bed like I wanted, I sat down at his desk. 

I shuddered as I thought of the fact that this was where Harry had written his letter to me. I pictured him frantically scribbling, racing against the drugs, trying to finish before he was too tired to continue. 

I swallowed thickly, trying to force the thoughts out of my head. I dug around for a pen and a piece of paper. Then I began to write.

 

Harry's POV

I really didn't want to be there, in rehab. 

I stared at the plate in front of me. A bowl of soup and two pieces of celery stared back at me. 

Apparently my stomach couldn't handle complex foods, so I had to work my way back up to normal food. I'd been forced to drink broth and eat jello at the hospital, but I'd apparently graduated to more broth, but with a few noodles floating around. 

"Do you want something different?" a nurse asked me. 

"I don't want anything. I'm not hungry," I growled. I knew that she'd make me eat anyways. 

"You've got to eat it. Don't you want to be healthy again?" she asked. 

"What I want is to die," I said coldly, staring directly into her eyes. 

She didn't so much as flinch. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. Just try a little bit and we can go from there, okay?" she suggested. 

Irritation flooded through me and I swiped my arm across the table, knocking the food to the floor with a clatter. 

"I'm not eating it," I spat, crossing my arms and glaring at her like a toddler. 

"I'll go get you some more," she replied simply, walking away. 

I knew that I was acting childish. But I really hated eating. At the hospital, when they had forced me to drink some broth, I immediatly threw it up, revealing just how fragile my stomach really was. 

I still couldn't eat much and they had to give me IVs to supplement the calories that I didn't eat. My previous meal had consisted of a small bowl of broth and half of a cup of jello. Even that had made me naseous and given me stomach cramps for an hour. 

When I ate, I wanted so badly to throw up. I wanted to feel empty and light again. Food felt heavy in my stomach. It felt like it didn't belong. 

The nurses who brought me food on the psych ward had stayed for an hour, making sure that I didn't throw up. I'd tried everything I could think of to get them to leave for even just a minute, but they knew how to deal with eating disorders, and they never fell for it. 

The nurse returned with another bowl and she set it in front of me. 

"You don't have to eat the celery. Just have the soup," she said, gesturing towards the bowl. 

I glared at her, my stomach churning just from the thought of having food inside of it. 

"Harry, you'll have to sit here until it's finished," she threatened. 

I picked up the spoon and twirled it around in my hands, refusing to meet her gaze. 

"It isn't very much. Just try it," she insisted. 

I wanted to tell her that it was very much, thank you. She hadn't literally starved herself to the point that she couldn't even think about food without feeling sick. 

I rolled my eyes, but I was tired and I didn't want to sit in front of a bowl of soup for the rest of the day. 

I sighed and cautiously took a spoonful of the soup and put it in my mouth. It tasted good, but I immediatly wanted to spit it out. Before I could, the nurse held my mouth shut, gently, but firmly. 

"Swallow," she commanded. 

I tried, but my throat felt like it was closing up. 

"Just relax," she ordered. 

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to swallow the small mouthful. 

As soon as it went down, I jerked away and gagged and coughed. She smiled. 

"Good job," she cooed, "Now just do that again." 

It took what felt like hours to drain the bowl, but I managed to do it. I gagged and retched after every swallow and I felt sick to my stomach. 

She waited for about a half hour, making sure that I couldn't throw up. Even if I did, it wouldn't be much. 

"That was great. You have your IV in an hour, and then your next meal in two, but you can go to your room or walk around for now," she said. 

I immediatly stood and stormed away. I found my room and went inside, feeling so ill that I didn't notice the boy on the bed next to mine. 

"Hello." 

I jumped and looked at him as I sat down on my bed. 

"Hi," I replied, assuming he was my roomate. 

"I'm Felix. You're Harry," he said, rolling over onto his side. 

"Yeah. Nice to meet you," I mumbled, wincing as my stomach cramped. I forced myself to lay down and face him. 

Felix looked about my age. He had sandy-colored hair that hung down into his eyes and freckles were scattered across his face. His eyes were green, like mine, and even though he was laying down, we looked about the same height. 

"What are you in here for? I heard you're a singer, right? Famous?" he drawled. 

"Yeah. I'm in the band One Direction. I, um, tried to commit suicide and I cut myself and had an eating disorder before that, bulimia. And anorexia before that. I was addicted to my, um, anti-depressants too," I mumbled. I tried to copy his laid-back demeanor, but I couldn't. I was tense. 

He nodded. 

"I think my little sister likes you. My parents won't let me talk to her until I get clean. If you name a drug, I've probably got an addicted to it. It's a pain in the arse to get rid of, but I'll do it for my sister," Felix said, glowing as he talked about his sister. 

I thought of how Louis loved his sisters and the way he was so fiercely protective over them. I blinked away the images of bright blue eyes and focused on the green ones in front of me. 

"What's so bad about being a popster that made you get into all that shit?" he asked. 

He seemed genuinely curious and his question didn't annoy me. Still, I felt weird answering with the truth. 

"I, er, fell in love with one of my bandmates and he kind of...has a girlfriend and I guess I just went a little crazy," I replied. 

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine, but I didn't know what for. 

"Love is a bitch, isn't it? It can make you do all kinds of crazy things. I had a girlfriend once, I don't mind that you like dicks by the way, but I thought I was in love with her. I don't know if I really was, but we moved in together during our second year of Uni and eventually we broke up. I thought my life was over. I went to some party one night to take my mind off of it, and that's when someone slipped something into my drink and I never looked back since then. All I wanted was that same feeling that whatever was in my drink gave me. I was in love with drugs, just like you're in love with whoever," he said. 

"Louis," I said softly. 

"Louis," he repeated, nodding, "So tell me, popstar- you don't mind me calling you that do you?- since I've decided to tell you the beginning of my story, how'd you get started?" he asked. 

We were both sitting up now, watching each other as we talked. 

"It's fine. The nickname, I mean. I don't really know what exactly made me want to cut, but I do know how it felt the first time. It's this release, like all the pain you feel inside is coming out of you. It's only temporary, but so are drugs, yeah?" I said. 

I found it really easy to talk to Felix, knowing that he understood at least partially how I felt. 

He shrugged. 

"It got to a point where I was pretty much high all of the time. My parents eventually decided to send me here after they asked me to babysit my sister and they came home to her crying in the bathroom because I'd taken a bad trip and started freaking out, apparently," he said, "But it is temporary, I just tried to make the gap between when I was high and not as small as possible." 

"It was hard to hide the throwing up from my bandmates because I was with them all of the time. I got caught once, but I told them that I was just sick. I cut my hips after a while so they would think that I stopped when there wasn't any new cuts on my wrist," I said. 

"I want to meet your bandmates," Felix said suddenly, "Especially Louis." 

I must have flinched when he said Louis's name, because his eyes narrowed. 

"Louis won't be visiting me," I forced out. Saying his name hurt and I couldn't release the hurt by cutting. 

"Why not? Is he just a dick?" Felix asked. 

"No, no! He's perfect, he would be by my side every second iffy could!" I exlaimed. 

"Then why won't he visit?" he asked. 

"I asked the staff to exclude him from the list of permitted visitors or whatever it is," I said quietly. 

Felix studied me carefully. 

"It hurts, seeing him, doesn't it?" he asked quietly. 

I nodded. 

"I tried killing myself because he proposed to his girlfriend," I spat bitterly. 

"Do you think, not to sound like a bad pamphlet, that maybe you could heal better if you let him visit you? You're going to have to see him eventually, popstar, and it'll be a rude awakening. This is a sheltered life. As hard as they try to prepare you for what happens after this, real life is different. Nobody watches over your shoulder when you shave, nobody stops you from picking up the drugs or the razor, or from making yourself throw up. And when you go back to real life, you're going to have to face Louis. It'll be easier to just see him now rather than live a sheltered life for six months, won't it?" Felix asked. 

He was right, he was so, so right. I decided that I hated Felix a little bit right then because he was right. 

"I feel sick," I said simply, before turning to face the other side. 

"Of course you do," Felix muttered. 

I shut my eyes and wrapped my arms around my cramping stomach. There was several minutes of silence. 

"I've been here for three months. My past roomate was bulimic too," he said quietly, "He went home and went right back into his old ways. His parents were always on business trips, so they never noticed when their son started losing a disgusting amount of weight, not the first or second time. But they sure as hell noticed when they came home and found him dead in his bed. He'd died of heart failure." 

My eyes snapped open. 

"Were you good friends?" I asked hesitantly. 

"Best friend since birth," Felix replied. 

I turned around to face him. His eyes betrayed no emotion. I wished that I could do that. He nodded when he saw me looking at him. 

"Yeah. I'd known Matt all my life. We did everything together. He was always pretty thin, but that was just him. We went to Uni together too. We grew apart a little when I moved in with my girlfriend, but when she and I broke up, Matt and I lived together. He looked away when I was high, and I pretended not to hear him throwing up. He came over one day during break and my mum took one look at him, and she just knew, somehow. She called his mum and before I knew it, he and I were shipped off here," Felix said. 

I stared at him. 

"He was only here for a month. He ate like he was supposed to and he was a perfect model for the program. They sent him home early. I'm here for a while cause I was absolutely crazy when I came here. He visited me, and I think I noticed him getting skinnier. He stopped visiting when he really started losing weight again. Found out he was dead three weeks ago," he said quietly. 

I felt even more sick as I listened. 

"Look. I just met you, but I think we'll be good mates, you and I. Even if we aren't, I don't want you to end up like Matt. When you said you felt sick, you reminded me so much of him. He used to feel so ill after they made him eat," he said. 

"I feel sick when they make me eat too," I said. 

"Yeah. Cause your stomach isn't used to food or whatever," Felix said. 

He shook his head, flicking hair back from his face. 

"I don't want to get a call saying that my old pop star roommate had the same fate as my old best mate," Felix muttered. 

There was a knock at the door before I could reply and a male nurse came in. 

"Styles, your IV is ready," he said. 

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. 

I stood, still feeling sick, and walked over. 

"I'll get better, I promise. I can't hurt my best mates and my fans and my family the way that Matt hurt you," I said softy to Felix as I passed him. 

"Way to go, pop star," he chuckled, "Have fun getting needles stabbed into you. I wish I was you." 

I thought he was sarcastic for a moment, but then I remembered why he was in rehab. 

As I followed the male nurse, thoughts of Felix's story filled my head. I'd just met the lad and he was telling me such a personal thing. I figured that that might just have been how Felix was. He didn't want to see anybody go down the route that his friend, Matt, had gone down. Unfortunately, I already had and now I was struggling to find my way back. I didn't want to find my way back, but seeing how badly Felix was hurting from Matt, I realized that I was hurting people just like that. I was being selfish, I had known that for ages, but the pain that I myself was in had driven me crazy, it still was driving me crazy. I didn't know if I could be fixed. 

I sat patiently and quietly as they administered the IV. 

If I couldn't get better for my family, or my friends, or the fans, I'd get better for Felix. I would get better for Matt.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry's POV

"I don't want to." 

"You have to." 

"I feel sick." 

"It's just your stomach getting used to having food in it. You'll be alright." 

"I feel like I'm going to throw up." 

"That's perfectly normal." 

Somehow, no matter how hard I had argued with the attendant, nurse, whatever, I'd still been forced to go to therepy. 

It wasn't that I hadn't liked Adele...or Anna or whatever the hell her name had been. It had been different. She had seemed nice, but I wasn't in the mood for talking about my feelings and how the fuck I'd ended up so twisted. I was in the mood for throwing up to get rid of my stomachache and cutting myself to relieve a stupid itch I'd felt in my veins ever since I'd woken up in the hospital. 

I trailed after the attendant, glowering at his back. 

"We're running a little behind, so she's already ready for you," he said politely. 

I glared at him as I went inside, slamming the door behind me. 

"Nice to see you again, Harry," my therapist said brightly, reaching out to shake my hand. I obliged, sticking my hand out, but not really shaking hers. 

I glanced at the name on her desk. Aysiah. I knew it had been sort of different. 

"So, how are you?" she asked. 

"I want to die," I replied simply, giving her my darkest glare. She stared back without batting an eye. 

"I know. But you're here so you won't feel that way any more. I heard that you didn't want to eat earlier. Do you want to tell me about it? You don't have to, if you aren't comfortable," she said. 

"I just didn't want to eat. It makes me feel sick," I snapped. 

I knew that I was being rude, but I hated her already for trying to understand me. I didn't want to be understood. I wanted to die. 

Aysiah frowned. 

"Did food make you feel sick before you tried to commit?" she asked. 

"I don't know. I made myself sick before it could," I replied, picking at one of my finger nails. 

"I'm sure you're sick of hearing this, but you're feeling sick because you're stomach had gotten weak without food and it has to work harder than it naturally should to process even the simplist of foods," she said. 

"Then why do I even have to eat? Can't I just have IVs?" I asked. 

"IVs simply give you liquid vitamins and calories. You don't get everything you need to build muscle and start to gain weight from just an IV. It helps, but you can't rely on it alone," she said. 

I didn't reply. 

"Did you meet your roomate yet?" she tried. 

"Yeah," I mumbled. 

I was still trying to process Felix and our unexpectedly deep conversation. 

"He's a nice guy. He's really trying to get clean for his sister," Aysiah mused. 

After I didn't say anything, she spoke again, "So, tell me about yourself." 

"I'm sure you could look me up. You'd find plenty to know about me," I growled. 

I didn't want to talk, couldn't she understand that? I supposed that it was her job to get me to open up, but I was determined to make her struggle. 

"I don't want to read a bunch of made-up bullishit," she snorted, surprising me, "I want to know what you're really like." 

"I cut myself, I'm bulimic, and suicidal. That's who I really am," I spat. 

"Alright, if that's what you think. Then tell me who you were before you started all of that," Aysiah urged. 

"I'm a member of a band with four other lads," I mumbled. 

"Tell me about them," she insisted. 

I hesitated. The lads were easy to talk about...three of them were easy to talk about. 

"One's Liam, right?" she prompted, "What's he like?" 

"Liam? He's...responsible, I guess. He's usually the one that keeps the rest of us in line. But he can be really crazy if he doesn't think that he needs to watch out for the rest of us. He's easy to talk to, too," I explained, shifting in my seat slightly. 

"What about...Zayn, I think was his name?" Aysiah asked. 

"Zayn? Everyone usually gets the impression that he's the quiet and mysterious one, but he's really not. He can be louder than...than some of us, sometimes," I said, stumbling over my words, "He's really great to go to if you need advice or something, though." 

She nodded slowly and I watched her processing the information. 

"Niall?" she continued. 

"Oh, he's like the baby of the group, even though I'm the youngest. He's not innocent at all, but we all just feel like we need to protect him. He can eat forever, too, more than anybody I know," I said, throwing in that random fact. 

Aysiah smiled. 

"See it's not hard," she said, "There's four boys other than you, right? You've only talked about three." 

The small smile I'd managed when talking about the lads immediatly disappeared and I felt my heart beat quicken. She had to know that of all things, I really, really did not want to talk about this. 

"Louis, right?" she asked, her voice gentle. 

I flinched when she said his name and an image of beautiful, smiling, bright blue eyes flashed in front of me, only to be replaced by the knowledge that his eyes probably hadn't smiled like that since I'd tried to commit. 

"Talking about things does help, you know. I'm not just saying that because I have to," Aysiah said softly. 

I gnawed on my lip and the itching in my veins started to become unbearable. I couldn't talk about him. I just couldn't. 

"Harry?" she prompted. 

I shook my head furiously, blinking back tears. 

"No! I'm not talking about him!" I barked suddenly. 

"Alright. You don't have to right now if you don't want to," she said calmly. 

"No, I'm not talking about him ever!" I snapped, "Can I go now?" 

"You still have another twenty minutes. If you would like to spend it in silence, that's alright with me. I have some paperwork to catch up on, but if you feel the need to talk, I'm literally right here," Aysiah replied. 

I scowled, fighting the urge to tear at my wrists with my nails. The itching was getting worse, and I squeezed my hands into tight fists so that I wouldn't be tempted. 

I was hit with the memory of Louis kissing the scars, trying his hardest not to cry. That moment had hurt so bad and it had been all I could do not to kiss him, or yell at him and demand to know why he had to be so bloody perfect. 

As I thought about him, my wrists started to almost burn with the need to cut. 

"Some people think that it helps to stop cutting if you snap a rubber band against your skin. It's suppose to help you become less dependent on pain, and eventually you don't use the rubber band anymore," she said without looking up, "I don't know if I believe that. I think it's better to just try and stop as fast as possible." 

I stared at her incredulously. 

"You're very restless," she added, as if she had been reading my thoughts. I'd been wondering how she knew how desperate I had been for a razor or anything even remotely sharp. 

"It's been twenty minutes. Can I go now?" I begged. 

It hadn't even been five, but she nodded. 

"Same time tomorrow," she said. 

I immediatly stood up and bolted out of her office, getting to my room as quickly as I could. I slammed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. 

"You okay?" Felix asked from where he sat on his bed. 

I didn't answer immediatly, choosing instead to start pacing, clawing at my wrists desperately. 

"I want it so bad," I hissed, the dull sting of my nails doing little to relieve me. 

I scratched furiously at my arms, tearing at my skin. It was torture and I felt my eyes start to burn with desperation and frustration. 

"Please, do you have anything? Fuck, I don't care if it's a razor or anything, I just need...I just need to...," I gasped, looking around the room frantically. 

I bit back a growl as I saw a tiny bead of blood bubble up from my wrist. It wasn't enough. I scratched even harder, needing to bleed. 

Suddenly, my arms were being pinned behind my back and I yelped in surprise. I hadn't even realized that Felix had gotten up. 

"Let me go!" I demanded, struggling. 

"Not until you relax," he replied softly. 

"No, no, you don't understand, I need it so bad, it itches so bad!" I muttered, focusing on getting my arms out of his grasp. 

"Sit," he commanded, steering me towards the bed until my knees hit the edge and forced my legs to buckle. 

I struggled wildly, whimpering, needing to cut or throw up or anything to relieve the intense desperation that I felt. 

"Close your eyes," he ordered. 

I did. 

"Just relax. Sit still," he murmured, "Focus on what you're feeling right now." 

I did as he said, which made the burning and itching flare up, making me start to twist to try and scratch myself. 

"Sit still!" he snapped gently, "Pretend that what your feeling is just a bunch of little bugs. Pretend that they're running away and making the itching stop." 

I tried to picture a bunch of little ants scurrying down my arms and onto the bed, leaving me alone. Surprisingly, the burning feeling slowly vanished until it was only a dull itch, like a piece of hair tickling skin. 

He made a small noise of approval as I slowly relaxed and he cautiously removed his right grasp on my arms. I turned and stared at him in amazement. 

"How'd you know that would work?" I asked. 

Felix shrugged, smiling slightly. 

"It was Matt's idea, really. Whenever I was really, really craving drugs, I'd get that itching feeling like you did. He'd sit me down and make me pretend that there was bugs on me and all I had to do was shake them off. I didn't know if it would work for you, but I guess it did. It's not for everyone," he answered. 

"Thank you," I said quietly. 

"It's not problem, popstar," he said, smirking as I rolled my eyes at the nickname. 

"What got you so worked up, anyways? You don't have to answer if you don't want," Felix said. 

I bit my lip and absently ran my fingers over the ridged lines that my scars had created. 

He waited patiently as I debated on how to answer him. He'd been so open with me and I felt like I should do the same, but my wounds were still raw and wide open. 

"Aysiah, my therapist, was making me talk about the band and...I just couldn't talk about...um...," I mumbled. 

"Louis," he supplied. 

I winced and nodded tensely. 

"That's alright, you know. It took me a while to be comfortable with talking about Matt," Felix said sympathetically, "It sounds a little overrated, but it does get easier as time goes by." 

I sighed heavily, not wanting to add anything. 

"I'm really tired. I'm going to go to sleep for a bit until they come and force more food down my throat," I muttered. 

He nodded and climbed off my bed and walked to his own. 

I curled into a ball, kicking my shoes off, and shut my eyes tightly. I didn't see black behind my eyelids. Instead, I saw bright blue eyes looking back at me.

I didn't think I had fallen asleep, but the next thing I knew, Felix was shaking my shoulder gently. 

"Hey, popstar, I think you're supposed to go down to eat now," he said. 

I rolled over with a low groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. 

"How long was I asleep?" I asked, sitting up slowly. 

"About an hour and a half. Not super long. Did you know you snore, by the way?" he asked, seeming amused. 

"Yeah. The lads tell me that all the time," I yawned, standing and stretching, "Sorry if it annoys you." 

"Nah. I thought it was pretty entertaining actually," he snorted. 

I slipped on my shoes. 

"I really don't want to go eat," I complained. 

"You have to, popstar. You wanna get better for your fans, don't you?" Felix asked, raising his eyebrows. 

I stopped. I hadn't even really thought about the fans in the grand scheme of things. 

"Yeah," I replied quietly. 

I left and found my way to what they apparently called the dining room, even though it was really a cafeteria. 

The same nurse that had brought me food earlier smiled brightly at me as I trudged over. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked sunnily. 

I didn't dignify her with a response. I simply sat down at a table and glared at her as she brought me a tray. It was essentially the same thing, but it was a thicker tomato soup instead of the thin chicken noodle soup from before. I wrinkled my nose. 

"If it's too thick for you, I can always go get you what you had earlier," she said. 

"I'd rather have nothing," I spat, stirring the soup absently with my spoon. 

"That's not an option," she replied. 

I decided that I really didn't like her. 

I choked down a tiny spoonful, hating the way it slid down my throat innocently. It was anything but innocent. It was going to make me gain weight and get healthier again and I didn't want that. I liked how I looked, my bones sharp and oddly pretty. I liked the sometimes painful clenching of my stomach when I was hungry. I didn't like the painful clenching of my stomach after I ate, however. 

"Good!" she cooed as I forced down another spoonful. 

Halfway through the small bowl, I knew that I physically couldn't finish it. I set down my spoon and squeezed my eyes shut. 

"One more spoonful," she insisted, her voice obnoxious and happy. 

"I feel sick," I said quietly, my stomach twisting. 

"You're doing great though. You don't have much left," she insisted. 

"I seriously don't think I can eat any more!" I snarled. 

"You know that you have to stay here until you finish. That's the rules," she said sternly. 

I swallowed hard and picked up the spoon, dipping it into the soup. It seemed even thicker, like it would be impossible to swallow. 

I put it in my mouth, but my throat didn't seem to want to cooperate. It felt like it had closed. 

"Swallow," the nurse commanded, holding my mouth shut like she had before. 

I forced myself to relax, but I felt extremely ill. I hadn't even swallowed the whole spoonful before I was gagging and being pushed towards the nearest trash can. 

I retched violently, the small amount of food in my stomach being forced up. 

"You weren't ready for something so thick, were you?" she mused, patting my arm gently as I dry-heaved. 

"I told you I felt too sick to finish," I mumbled weakly, taking the glass of water that I was handed. 

"We get that as an excuse not to eat a lot. You tried to use it earlier today and you did just fine. It's all a matter of seeing what works and what you can handle. You did well with the chicken soup earlier, so we decided to try something thicker, which you aren't ready for quite yet," she replied. 

I sat back down at the table, grimacing as a small bowl of chicken noodle soup was brought over to me. It was only about half the size of what I had eaten earlier. 

"Your stomach probably won't be able to handle more than this much right now," she explained. 

"I just threw up. Do I really have to eat?" I complained. 

I was basking in the relief that throwing up gave me. It felt so good to be able to. I wondered if I could convince her to give me more food that I couldn't handle, just so that I could throw up again. 

"You have to. You body needs nutrients as soon as possible because you don't have anything to give it right now," she said. 

After I had struggled to finish my new meal and I'd sat with her long enough that she determined that it was okay for me to leave, I went back to my room. 

Felix wasn't there, so I threw myself on my bed and immediatly balled up, clutching my cramping stomach. It hurt badly and my head swam with the need to throw up. I couldn't, though, I had been made to wait too long. 

I took shallow breaths, concentrating on getting rid of my overwhelming nausea. 

Time passed and I heard the door open. 

"Hey, popstar!" Felix said cheerfully. 

I groaned in response. 

"You should work out with me sometime," he continued, ignoring my less than enthusiastic greeting, "Whenever they approve of it, though. I think since you've got an eating disorder, they need to moniter you whenever you work out so you don't overwork yourself or lose more calories than you're taking in or something." 

I grunted. Working out seemed like too much right then. Rolling over to face Felix seemed like too much. 

"If you puke, don't do it towards my things," he said. I heard clothes hit the floor and I assumed that he was taking off his workout clothes. 

"I already threw up," I groaned, "But the fucking nurse made me eat more right after." 

"That seriously sucks, mate," Felix said sympathetically, "I'm gonna take a shower." 

I made a garbled noise in reply. 

I must have dozed off because I rudely awoken as he shook his dripping wet hair on me. 

"Fuck you, mate. Just fuck you," I yelped, jumping up. 

"Showers free, if you want one," he laughed.

 

 

Louis's POV

Apparently we had some radio interview that I sure as hell did not want to go to. 

I'd refused when Zayn had come to try and drag me out of Harry's flat. He'd sighed, obviously irritated, and had sent Liam in. 

"Lou, come on. You've gotta come with us," he said gently, rubbing my back, "Everyone's really worried about you. You need to let people know that you're doing alright." 

"I'm not doing alright," I growled. 

"Neither are we, Lou, but we have to put on a smile for our fans, okay?" he tried. 

"I don't care about the fans," I mumbled. 

"Yeah you do. You're just being oppositional," Liam sighed. He pushed me over so that he could sit down next to me in Harry's bed. 

"I don't think you should be staying here," he continued, "It's a bit morbid." 

"I don't care if it's fucking morbid, Liam, I just need to feel close to Harry, okay?" I snarled. 

He recoiled slightly. 

"You should at least clean the carpet," he sighed, "Or get it replaced, cause that is one massive stain." 

"I'm too tired," I argued. 

Liam hummed softly. 

"You haven't been sleeping much at all, have you?" he asked. 

"I don't know," I replied honestly. 

"Do you think you could sleep better in your own place?" he asked. 

"My bed doesn't smell like Harry," I admitted. 

It probably sounded crazy to him, but it made sense to me. Harry's familiar scent was relaxing, and my bed didn't have that, so I would get even less sleep there. 

"Look, Lou, throw a beanie and some shoes on, and we really need you to come with us," he said, a pleading note in his voice. 

"I'm not going!" I hissed, rolling onto my side away from him. 

"Louis, you've got to. It's your job!" he barked, his strict side coming out, "I don't want to go either, but I am! Niall and Zayn are just as worn down as you and I, but they're still going! I know this is really hard on you, but you can't just sit here and sulk all day!" 

I felt my lower lip tremble as tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I felt one slowly slide down my cheek and I sniffed. 

"I don't wanna go," I whimpered. 

"Oh, Lou, I didn't mean to make you cry," Liam cooed, petting my hair gently, "I'm sorry for snapping at you." 

"I don't wanna have to say anything about Harry. I don't wanna talk about it," I sniffled, sounding ridiculously childish. 

"Alright, you won't have to talk at all if you don't want to. You just have to be there for the camera," Liam said assuringly. 

I grimaced. I hated when radio interviews were filmed. It sort of defeated the purpose of it being on the radio. 

"Okay," I whispered. 

"Thank you, Louis. We're running a little late, so get ready quickly, okay?" he said gently. 

I nodded. I pouted the whole way to the studio where the radio show was at. I regretted agreeing to coming almost immediatly after we had left Harry's flat. 

We filed into the room quietly and sat down. The host took our disheveled appearances in, his eyes widening slightly. 

As soon as we went live, he introduced us along with the show. 

"How are you boys today?" he asked. 

"We're good, thank you," Niall answered. 

"I understand you've had a rough few days," he prompted. 

Liam wrapped his arm around my waist and squeezed comfortingly as Zayn put his hand on my knee. 

"Yeah, it's been pretty hard, but we're doing well considering that," Liam said, his voice slightly guarded. 

"You've probably talked to Harry. How is he doing?" the host asked. 

I had my arm around Liam's shoulders and my hand clenched down. Yeah, I'd talked to Harry, against his will. Liam gave a muffled squeak and I loosened my grip. 

"Harry's actually doing really well. It's obviously fairly traumatic for all of us, but him especially. He's strong though, and I think he's trying to get better for the fans, mostly. I don't think he likes everyone seeing him in a pretty fragile state. He really appreciates how concerned everyone is," Zayn said. 

I shifted restlessly, wanting to change the topic. I didn't want to talk about it, or hear about it. 

"Louis, how are you dealing with it? The other three said in another interview yesterday that you're having a pretty difficult time?" the host said. 

I looked at Liam angrily. I knew it wasn't his fault that I had to talk, that he'd answer for me if the question hadn't been so pointedly directed to me, but I was still angry. 

"I'm fine," I said simply. 

It was probably the worlds worst answer I could have given, but it wasn't really a question that the host could push without seeming like a jerk, so I felt accomplished. 

"Alright, that's good to know," he said awkwardly, "Now, Harry's attempt at trying to commit didn't really surprise some people. Everyone had been commenting on how skinny he had been getting. Did it surprise you guys?" 

Yes, it had. There was nothing quite so surprising as walking in on your best mate half-dead in his room with blood and pills everywhere. 

"Of course it did. Um...we never expected it to get so...drastic," Niall said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. 

I felt my own eyes begin to burn and I ducked my head and swallowed thickly. 

"Relax, Lou," Liam murmured in my ear. 

"How long did you guys say that he will be in rehab for?" the host asked. 

It was probably the simplest question in the entire interview, but I decided that I couldn't take any more on the topic. 

"I really don't want to talk about this any longer," I snarled, "Can we stop?" 

Liam and Zayn simultaneously tightened their grips on me, probably half-worried that I'd hit the host. 

"Oh. Ok. Um...alright," he stammered. 

"You wanna go get some air really quick, Lou?" Niall murmured, leaning behind Zayn to talk in my ear. 

I nodded at him and we slipped out of the room and into the hallway. I slid down the wall so that I was sitting. 

"I'm sorry, Nialler," I mumbled, "I shouldn't have done that." 

"It's okay. None of us really wanted to talk about it. You were just the one with the balls to speak up," he said, sitting next to me. 

We stayed out in the hallway for a few silent minutes. 

"I think I can go back in now," I said tentatively. 

"We don't have to. We can stay out here," Niall said. 

"No. I shouldn't have even walked out in the first place and you shouldn't have come with me. We need to go back in," I sighed. 

"If you're sure that you'll be fine," Niall said slowly. 

I nodded at him and we entered again. The host looked up and smiled warily. I sat down in between Liam and Zayn. I stayed quiet the rest of the time. I had no idea what was even talked about. 

I refused the offers to go out after the interview and instead made them take me back to Harry's. 

"I'll call some carpet company or something," I said to Liam. 

"Alright, Lou. We're here for you, yeah?" he said, patting my leg as I got out. 

"Yeah. I know," I said softly. 

They were there for me when I needed them. 

But I hadn't been there for Harry when he had needed me the most.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry's POV

I began to hate food as much as I hated life. When they tried to move me into tomato soup again two days after the first time, I'd legitimately projectile vomited all over the table. I officially hated tomato soup.

So I was stuck with chicken noodle soup, but I saw that they were adding more noodles and a few vegetables in it.

Aysiah had gotten me to talk about my family and my friends outside of the band, but each time she tried to get me to open up about Louis, I shut up immediatly. She told me that I was going to be allowed visitors at the end of the week.

I missed the lads and my family, but in the few days I'd been in rehab, I'd grown used to the bubble that blocked reality out. Felix had warned me about not getting used to the bubble, but I'd already started to.

"I want to meet your mates when they visit you," he drawled when I walked in after puking tomato soup for the third time.

"You can talk to them instead of me. I don't want to," I muttered, falling face-first onto my bed.

I could practically hear him frowning.

"Look, Harry, you're going to have to talk to them eventually," he sighed, "I didn't want to talk to my parents when they put Matt and I in here, but I did eventually. It's part of healing."

"Felix, it's been only a little less than two weeks since I tried to kill myself. I'm not even remotely ready to heal," I sighed.

"You began healing the second you woke up, mate," Felix replied.

I raised my head to look at him. He shrugged.

"S'true," he said.

"Why the hell aren't you my therapist?" I asked, rolling on to my back.

"Cause Aysiah actually knows what she's doing. Random shit flies out of my mouth and sometimes it's inspirational or whatever," he replied.

"Mmm. I'm gonna sleep for a bit. Apparently if I can't keep tomato soup down, they just keep increasing the amount of chicken noodle soup they give me. It's making my stomach hurt like hell," I sighed.

"Matt said once that the cramps that he got from the easy food were nothing compared to what happened when he got to the complex stuff," Felix commented.

"Thanks for the warning," I mumbled, wrapping my arms around my aching stomach.

"Just telling you what to expect, mate. See, that's the nice thing about drugs. They're hard to kick just like anything else and you have to go through withdrawal and shit, but you don't get stomach cramps," he said brightly.

"You're annoyingly positive," I commented.

"That's the only way to get better," he replied.

"What if I don't want to get better? I tried to kill myself for a reason," I growled moodily.

"But you're trying to get better, aren't you? You're trying to eat and you haven't cut. You've actually pretty positive compared to a lot of people around here," he said.

"I don't want to be positive," I complained.

"You won't get anywhere being negative," he retorted, "But don't worry, you've still got five months and three weeks to get positive."

"That's so long," I groaned.

"It goes by quickly " he assured me.

"That's wonderful," I sighed, "Now leave me alone."

I was tired and my stomach still hurt.

"Your wish is my command, pop star," he said, "I think I'm gonna go swim."

I waited until he left before I say up.

I crossed the room and yanked open a drawer, riffling through it eagerly. He had to have a razor, didn't he?

I'd seen him come out of our bathroom clean-shaven, and I hadn't been able to stop thinking about cutting since.

My heart beat rapidly as I dug through his things. I tossed pictures and clothes around, waiting for a flash of silver to surface.

My hands started to shake as I knelt down to rummage through a bag under his bed. It proved to only be full of food.

I started to get more frantic, carelessly throwing stuff around. My wrists burned with the need to cut and it was becoming unbearable.

I darted into our bathroom but there came no reward. I clawed at my wrists as I looked around.

Desperate for relief, I yanked his duvet off of his bed and threw the pillow to the floor. Finally, when I shoved the mattress off, I saw the glint of silver that I had been searching for. I picked up the small razor and pulled the cover off.

I walked over to my own bed and sat down, running my finger over the edges of the razor and studying the shallow incisions that it left behind.

My mind became fuzzy and calm, a feeling that had previously only come after I cut myself.

I pressed the razor to my wrist and sighed, smiling as I felt the familiar sting as I slid it across.

I shut my eyes, taking in the familiar, delicious pain.

Then I saw a flash of blue behind my eyes, the most beautiful blue in the entire world, a blue that brought with it a pain that hurt thousands of times worse than any cut.

The blue of Louis's eyes clouded as they stared back at me, pained and disappointed.

My own eyes flew open and I threw the razor across the room, letting it break as it hit the wall.

"I can't!" I screamed at the broken plastic.

Everywhere I looked seemed blue as I scrambled backwards, trying to get away from the disappointed look that Louis had given me.

"I can't do it, Louis, I can't!" I cried, trying to block out everything around me as I curled into myself against my headboard and burst into ragged sobs.

I felt a hand on my back and I looked up into blue, but not the blue that haunted me.

I didn't know who those eyes belonged to, but the woman was saying something, standing me up and leading me out of the room.

I found myself in from of Aysiah, not remembering how I'd gotten to her office.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

I started to cry again.

"I just needed to cut so badly and it itched and burned!" I wailed, "But then I shut my eyes and I saw L-Louis!"

"How did he look?" she prompted, handing me a tissue.

"So- so disappointed in me, and I just couldn't cut again!" I sobbed, looking at the angry red on my wrist, the evidence that I had given into temptation.

"Isn't that good? You don't want to disappoint Louis, so it will make it harder for you to cut again," she said.

"It felt really good though," I whispered, "I want to do it again because it was so, so good."

She studied me for several long moments, dark eyes analyzing me.

"Self-harm is not an easy habit to break. If it were, you wouldn't be here, talking to me. But I've had a good number of patients who have stopped and now lead happy, healthy lives," she told me.

"But not everyone can stop," I added.

"No. But those who fall back into the habit are those who typically don't have any form of support and have been completely destroyed until no amount of therapy can fix them," she said.

"Maybe I can't be fixed," I mumbled, absently shredding a tissue, "What's the point? I wanted to get out of my life and I still do."

Aysiah raised her eyebrows at me and swiped the shredded tissue off of her desk as I started on a new one.

"For one thing, you've got the largest group of supporters that I've ever seen. Think about it; you've got your family, your friends, and your fans. They all want you happy and healthy again. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you still want to die," Aysiah challenged.

I looked up from the new tissue that I was tearing apart and looked her in the eyes, refusing to back down from her hard stare.

"I still want to die," I said simply.

"Alright," she said, nodding, "You may go if you wish. I think that you'll find that your room has been thoroughly cleaned of anything that you can harm yourself with."

I was dazed and exhausted as I headed back to my room. I scratched at the new cuts, loving the sharp sting.

Felix was in our room as I walked in. He didn't say anything as I climbed into my bed, but his gaze burned steadily into my back.

I shut my eyes and pulled the sheets all the way over my head. I didn't do a thing to muffle my sobbing and Felix didn't try to quiet me.

It was all too overwhelming. The intense pressure on my shoulders grew as each second passed. Everyone expected me to emerge from rehav at the end of six months, changed and back to my old self.

Six months seemed long in theory, but I didn't want to ever face the world again. I didn't even know who Harry Styles was. I'd fallen so far that I had lost myself.

Hours passed, but my eyes remained open. I heard Felix get ready for bed and I heard him wake up in the morning.

"Harry, you've got to get up and eat something," a nurse cooed as she tried to coax me into getting up, moving, showing some sign that I was even alive.

I couldn't make myself speak or move or even think, really. I'd lost my control when I had lost who I was.

Eventually Felix was called in to try and get my up, but I couldn't respond to him either.

I felt myself being lifted and put into a wheelchair. The prick of the IV needle was the only thing I felt. I stared blankly at the nurses who prompted me to just take a spoonful of broth.

Aysiah came to my room as well, but as her mouth moved, I didn't hear the words that came out.

I found myself needing Louis. I needed him to comfort me and let me know that it would all end up alright, because he knew how to do that. I hardly went a few days without him before rehab and I started to miss him so badly that it hurt.

I knew that he'd find out that I'd cut again and it killed me to know that I was disappointing him. Every day without him hurt as much as every day with him had.

But I couldnt' let myself see him or let him see me.I knew that there was no way that I would stop loving Louis, but I had decided to try and get used to not having him, even if that meant not having him in any way at all. I knew how badly it would hurt to see him when I got out of rehab.

I wondered if I really did love Louis. Love was supposed to be magical and thrilling and happy. My love was living hell, so it couldn't be love, at least not by the standard definition.

Days began to blur and I had no idea if a year had passed or a hour. I got up and went through the motions of choking down food, occasionally throwing it up, and staring stonily at Aysiah as she tried to get me to talk.

I just felt so empty and lost, like cutting again had bled my soul out of me. I was in shock, Aysiah said, it had been settling in since I had woken up in the hospital, but was only just affecting me.

I cried into my pillow at night, trying to muffle the sobs that shook my body. Felix heard them anyways. He always came over and sat next to me and rubbed my back until I had fallen asleep.

I hated to sleep. I could never remember what I had dreamed about, but I always woke up with the memory of bright blue etched into my mind.

I had a minor panic attack when Aysiah told me that I was allowed visitors. I had had a larger one after I had cut with Felix's razor.

Aysiah's reasoning was that my family and friends could help lift my spirits.

"I don't want to see them," I gasped, the first words I had said in days.

I knew that seeing them, the lads especially, would break the safe bubble that I was living in. They would bring with them pain and sadness, which I needed no more of.

At the same time, I really did miss them. They were my brothers. I also wanted to see them for the comforting snese of familiarity. Everything in rehab was new and foreign to me and I was light years away from my comfot zone.

I agreed to see them.

Felix told me that he still wanted to meet everyone, but that he would leave for the first visits so that they could be alone with me. Part of me wanted to beg him to stay because I was terrified of what the lads had to say to me.

It was a week and four days since I had arrived at rehab when visits were permitted.

I was only allowed one person at a time for the time being, so mymother came first.

"How are you, sweetheart?" she asked gently.

I was sitting in a chair facing the window as I looked outside.

I shrugged, not quite trusting myself to speak. My throat felt thick and my eyes burned.

"I've been worried about you, honey. Everyone has been," she added.

I turned and looked at her, studying her appearence. She had aged years in the past two weeks.

"I know," I replied quietly.

"Gem said to tell you that she'll visit next week. Apparently she can't get any time off," My mother told me.

When I didn't reply, she sighed and reached out to brush stray hair out of my face.

"You been doing okay?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

"It's just...really hard," I whispered, " I have to eat so much, a lot for me but probably not much, really, and my stomach hurts all the time and sometimes I throw up because it's too much and I have to eat more even after that."

She stroked my hand, trying to comfort me.

"And my wrists itch all the time and I can't do anything about it. It's driving me crazy. A few days ago I found Felix's, he's my roomate, razor, and I just..had too," I continued.

I allowed her to look at the cuts on my wrist that the blades on his razor had created. She made a noise in her throat like she was trying not to cry and my heart clenched with guilt.

I didn't tell her about seeing Louis. I couldn't talk about him yet.

"Are you disappointed in me?" I whispered tentatively.

"Harry, no! Not at all! Why would I be diappointed in you?" she cried.

"I'm here so that I can get better and I'm not! Everyone should be disappointed in me!" I snapped.

"You're struggling with addictions, Harry. You're going to have your setbacks and it will take a while to heal; it's not going to happen immediatly. You're trying hard to get better and I'm proud of you for that," she said sternly.

"I've hardly been trying, unless you count getting food forced down my throat and staring at my therapist trying," I grumbled.

"You and I both know that you could have tried to commit again with that razor," she said softly, "You are trying, I know you are. There's a part of you that knows that you're still needed here. I need you, Gem needs you, the fans need you. The boys need you too, especially one of them."

She pulled me tightly into an awkward hug just as I started to cry.

I made her stay until the tearstains on my face faded. I didn't want the lads to see them.

I heard Liam come in after she left, but I didn't turn around. I wasn't ready to talk to the lads yet.

"Hey, Harry," he said quietly, sitting on my bed like my mum had.

I stared outside, trying to keep my face blank.

"Look, I don't have a clue what's going through your mind right now, but I get that you don't want to talk to me. I'm sure as hell going to talk to you though, and so are Niall and Zayn," he said.

I didn't reply, clenching my teeth to keep myself quiet.

"You know, the first night that you were here, I was up all night waiting for that call telling me that you had tried to commit again because you never wanted to go before and I was really, really scared of how you would react," Liam said, his voice strained.

I remembered him walking in on me, cutting vertically, and then me screaming at him to leave me alone because I would have rather died than go to rehab.

He hadn't left me alone.

"Harry, knowing how you've been acting, you don't want to hear me talk about Louis, but I'm going to. You should know how he's taking everything," Liam said, his voice low. 

I couldn't help but flinch at Louis's name. I didn't want to hear about him and how badly he was hurting, but I stayed silent. 

"He's...he's not doing well. I doubt that he's gotten more than twelve hours of sleep in the past two weeks. He's also very...angry all the time. He's walked out on two interviews and he's skipped a few others. He yells at us all the time when he actually talks to us. Harry, he's taking this really, really hard. You know, he's only talked to Eleanor once in the past two weeks. He's shutting everyone out," Liam said. 

I focused on breathing steadily as I felt my heart rate accelerate and my hands start to shake. 

"I know you don't want to see him, Harry, but he's hurting just like you are. He's so confused and he can't do anything about it because you won't talk to him," Liam added, "I know that you think this is the best way to go, and I really hope that you're right, because you're hurting not just Louis, but you're hurting us too." 

I needed Liam to go away before I had another panic attack. My throat felt like it was closing up and I felt nauseous. 

"I think that I should go. Your mum took some of our time with you, so I need to leave so that Niall and Zayn can visit you too," Liam said, "I'll see you next week, Harry." 

He left, the door shutting behind him. I bolted to it and locked it, sliding down so that my knees were tight against my chest. 

My breath came in ragged gasps and I couldn't get a rhythm. I felt like I was suffocating. 

The door was jiggled as somebody tried to come in. 

"Harry? Did you lock the door?" Niall called. 

I crawled away from the door to sit against a wall and continue heaving for air. 

"Nonononono," I gasped as panic settled in. 

"Hey, Harry?" Niall called again. 

I stood on shaking legs and collapsed in my bed, then fighting against the sheets that threatened to choke me. 

Sweat dripped down my forehead as I thought of everything that Liam said. 

I was hurting Louis. Louis was shutting everyone out. Louis wasn't doing well. LouisLouisLouisLouisLouis. 

I seriously couldn't breath, I couldn't breath, I couldn't- 

"Breath," Felix's familiar accent murmured in my ear as he pushed my inhaler against my lips. I'd gotten one after arriving at rehab, and it honestly did help. 

I sucked in a breath, my throat closing and I choked. 

"Yeah, good. Do that again for me, okay? You have to calm down, Harry, alright?" he said gently, praising me again when I sucked in another breath with my inhaler. 

He pulled it away and set it down on the bed. 

Felix helped me regulate my breathing, counting with me as I breathed in and out. 

I slowly relaxed, though my hands still shook and I felt sick. 

"There, you're good, yeah? Visits are stressful, aren't they?" he murmured. 

"I knew I was hurting him, but I didn't think he'd be hurting so much," I mumbled, thinking out loud. 

"Yeah. But sometimes you have to hurt other people for you to get better," Felix assured me, "I haven't seen my sister in months and I know that she's struggling." 

I nodded absently. 

"I don't like hurting other people, especially him," I protested weakly. 

"Sometimes it's necessary," Felix said, "I don't know if I agree with it, but you're the only person who knows what's best for you." 

I rested my head against the wall and took a deep breath. 

"I don't want to see Niall and Zayn. I don't think I can," I sighed. 

"That's fine. I'll go tell them, alright?" he suggested. 

I nodded and he got up and left the room to tell everyone. 

I stood on shaking legs and crawled into bed, where I stayed for the rest of the day.

Liam's POV

Seeing Harry so emotionless and cold was one of the hardest things that I had ever had to do. 

I'd seen the way that he had stiffened when I had talked about Louis, and as Niall repeatedly tried to open his door, I wondered if I hadn't made a big mistake. 

"Can you go find Felix?" a nurse said quietly to another, who nodded and walked away quickly. 

"Who's Felix?" I asked, curious. 

"Harry's roomate. He usually knows what to do with Harry," the nurse replied. 

I raised my eyebrows. 

"And you don't?" I asked. 

"No, we do, don't worry. Sometimes a patient feels more comfortable with somebody they know more than with a stranger," she said. 

"Oh," I said quietly, feeling a bit guilty. 

The other nurse returned, a blonde guy about my age following her. He unlocked the door with a key and slipped inside. 

We waited several minutes, shuffling around awkwardly before Felix came out. 

"He's fine. He just had a little panic attack and he said that he doesn't think he's up to any more visitors," he said. 

The nurses nodded at him. 

"Unless you want to sit for another hour, you can go," one said to Niall, Zayn and I. 

We started finding our way back to the entrance of the building. 

"Wait, Liam, right?" 

I turned around, Niall and Zayn turning as well. 

Felix was jogging towards us. 

"Just out of curiosity, what did you say to Harry?" he asked. 

I didn't know how much Felix knew about Harry and I hesitated. 

"He was saying that you told him that Louis was hurting because of this," he added. 

"Uh, yeah, that's pretty much it," I said. 

"Look, Harry isn't ready to hear about that. He won't talk about Louis and if he can't do that, he shouldn't hear about Louis either. A few days ago, he got ahold of my razor and he cut himself with it," Felix said. 

There was a collective stiffening between Niall, Zayn and I as Felix continued. 

"He only cut once before he just freaked out. He wouldn't stop saying that Louis was disappointed in him and he would be so upset knowing that Harry had cut. And then Harry just wouldn't talk for a few days. But what I'm getting at is, I don't think it's best if you tell him about Louis until he's ready because it makes him panic," Felix finished. 

"Alright. Thank you," I said. 

He smiled and nodded. 

"I'm just looking out for my popstar," he said lightly. 

I noticed the subtle possessiveness in his voice and I wasn't sure how to feel about it. 

"I might see you next week if Harry doesn't mind me being in our room. There's only so long that I can stay down at the gym," he joked. 

"We should probably go; I promised Lou that we'd come over as soon as we left," Zayn interrupted. 

"Alright. See you guys," Felix said, turning and walking away, waving over his shoulder. 

As we headed out to my car, Zayn sighed heavily. 

"I don't know if I like him," he said. 

"Zayn, we just met him and talked him. You shouldn't judge him," I said. 

"'My popstar'? Unless he and Harry are suddenly dating and Harry's forgotten about Louis, I don't think you can call someone yours after two weeks of knowing them," Zayn snapped. 

"Christ, Zayn, don't get mad at me," I sighed, "Yeah, I know that was a little weird, but maybe it's an inside joke or something. You know that Harry and Louis were calling each other 'theirs' after just a few days." 

"Well, that's Harry and Louis," Zayn retorted. 

"Can't Harry have somebody else in his life like that, especially if he's shutting Louis out?" I challenged. 

Niall watched us from the back seat, biting his lip and worrying the collar of his shirt. 

Zayn shrugged and mumbled something unintelligible. 

"Did you say something, Zayn?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. 

"I said that Harry doesn't want anyone like Louis but Louis in his life," he replied. 

"You don't know that. None of us know very much about what Harry wants right now other than that he doesn't want to talk to us," I argued, "Look, nobody knows if he's gay or bi or pan or what, so maybe he does like Felix and who knows, maybe they do have something going on. My point is that we don't know anything for sure and that we shouldn't judge Felix before we get to know him." 

"You know that Harry won't get over Louis, Li," Zayn snapped, "He won't even try." 

"But you don't know that, Zayn! Maybe he's ignoring Louis because he's trying to get over him! Stop acting like you know everything, because you sure as hell don't!" I yelled. 

Ignoring the flash of surprise in his eyes, I continued, "So tell me, if you know everything, tell me how come we let Harry get so fucked up and we never did a thing to help him? Tell me how to make everything go back to normal, because its not right anymore! Tell me who I just talked to in that room, because that was not Harry Styles! Tell me...just...just tell me!" 

By the end, I was crying, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes to try and stop. 

"Li, I...," Zayn said softly, "I'm sorry." 

"You didn't do anything," I said bitterly, "I should be the one that's sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you." 

I felt Niall's small hand on my shoulder as Zayn leaned over to hug me. 

"It's going to be okay, Li, you know that, right? Harry's strong, Louis's strong, Niall and I are strong, and Christ, Li, you're probably the strongest one of all of us. We'll make it through this, yeah?" Zayn murmured. 

"Yeah, okay. Really though, I'm sorry for getting mad at you. You didn't do anything," I said, sniffing. 

"It's cool. You needed to blown off some steam; I get it. C'mon, we should go see Lou," he said gently, patting my back once before tossing me my keys that I had dropped on the floor of the car. 

We spent the drive in an easy silence, at ease with each others' presences. 

I arrived at Harry's flat and got our, albeit a bit reluctantly. 

Niall and Zayn trailed after me as I walked in, not bothering to knock. 

"Lou?" I called. 

"What the hell do you want?" he growled from somewhere, presumably Harry's bedroom. 

"I said we'd visit you after we went to see Harry," Zayn replied. 

There was silence, and then Louis padded out, looking as disheveled as he had been for the past two weeks. 

"And?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to be sassy. He just looked worn out instead. 

"He...still won't talk to us, at least not to me. He wouldn't see Niall and Zayn," I muttered. 

"Why not?" Louis snapped, sounding impatient. 

I hadn't been lying when I told Harry that Louis was angry all the time. We never knew what would set Louis off, but if we struck a nerve, we'd have an earful of Louis yelling at us for no reason that we could understand. 

"I talked to him about you," I replied. 

"And? Get to the fucking point, Liam," he hissed, but I saw a nervous glint in his blood-shot eyes. 

"And he had a panic attack after I left, apparently. His roomate told us that Harry won't talk about you and that we shouldn't try to talk about you either, because obviously Harry doesn't react well to it," I answered hesitantly. 

I was right to be cautious. Louis's eyes lit up and blazed with a familiar anger. 

I braced myself, and I felt Niall tense beside me. Zayn was behind us. 

Louis didn't yell. He stood there, breathing heavily through his nose for several moments, before turning and fleeing back to Harry's room. 

"Well, that was a nice visit," Zayn drawled sarcastically. 

"Don't be mean, Zayn. You know that Lou's just in a hard position," I sighed. 

"Yeah, but I wish that we didn't have to be his verbal punching bags," he muttered. 

Niall hummed in agreement. 

"Think we should go?" he asked. 

"Yeah, probably. Louis is a ticking time bomb right now and I don't want to be around when he explodes," Zayn replied. 

Niall and I agreed. Then, because Niall looked sad, we went out to Nandos.


	9. Chapter 9

Louis's POV

'161'

I'd been tweeting a number once a day for the past four weeks. On the first day, some fans guessed it, but after a few more days, everyone had caught on. 

The numbers were the amount of days left until Harry got out of rehab. 

The fans all thought it was absolutely adorable that I had a countdown, but I just liked seeing the number decrease. I knew that with each day, six months became shorter. 

It'd been one month since Harry had been in rehab and I could feel myself starting to crumble. I'd walked out of yet another interview, not being able to hear them talk about Harry. I'd skipped another one where we had to sing. I just didn't think it was right to sing without him. Consequently, Zayn, Niall, and Liam had had to sing a trio. 

Just hearing Harry's name hurt. I'd betrayed him by not being there for him and now he was doing the same. 

I'd also gotten the carpet in his room replaced, relieved that I didn't have to be greeted by the dried brown stain. As the stain disappeared, so did the lingering smell of him in his room. I stuffed my face in his pillow and sheets, the familiar scent rapidly fading. I took to wearing his shirts and jumpers, though they were big on me, around his flat. I didn't wear them out in public, when I actually did go out. 

Liam had risked visiting me after seeing Harry twice more. He told me that Harry still wouldn't speak, but that he did look slightly healthier, like his bones weren't quite so prominent. As glad as I was to hear the news, I wanted to see it for myself. I needed to know that Liam was telling the truth, that Harry was getting better, at least in the physical aspect. 

He told me about Felix as well. I couldn't help but feel possessive. Harry was my best friend, at least, he had been, and hearing that he had somebody else taking care of him didn't sit well with me. 

Whenever Harry was sick, I was always the one to bring him tea and blankets and to try and nurse him back to health. He'd always done the same for me.

But when I thought about it, it had been a little less than a year since we'd done something like that for each other. 

Even the little things, like saying 'I love you' at the end of a phone call, or hugging each other whenever we saw each other, had stopped. I couldn't place when they had, but I realized with a throb in my heart, that while I had thought Harry and I were best friends, we'd grown far apart without me knowing it. I didn't know when the last time he and I had gone out together, just us, was. I hadn't wanted to, not wanting to spread rumors. 

I flipped Harry's pillow over and buried my face in it, inhaling deeply and sighing disappointedly when I only smelled myself. 

I wondered if Harry had pulled away from me, or if it had been all my fault. I remembered the fight we had had after Eleanor and I had gotten back together. He had told me himself that me trying to downplay our friendship hurt him, and yet I hadn't listened. I'd always thought that Harry was this strong, invincible person, like he could withstand anything. He'd always been my rock, the one that I'd go to when I needed somebody. But over time, rocks crumble, and so had Harry. 

I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes as they started to burn. I was tired of crying, but I couldn't help it. I was just so overwhelmed. 

I'd gone into the X Factor wanting to do nothing but sing. I wanted to show the world that I had what it took, that I had the X Factor. I'd ended up being put in a band and gaining four new best mates. I'd become world-famous almost over night; I'd had to adjust to fame quickly. But I hadn't been prepared for all the hate, the rumors, the insanity that was our fans. I had to pay attention to how I interacted with people, namely Harry, I had to watch what I said, how I acted. I had to become somebody who I really wasn't. 

It was all so stressful and I started to crack after a while. Harry had always been there to smooth out my cracks and piece me back together again when I broke down. 

I realized with a twist of guilt in my chest, how much I really had neglected him and our friendship. I'd cared about my image too much; I'd let people hiding behind computers get under my skin. 

I felt sick. Harry had been such an amazing friend, and he'd had the pressure of being in love with me as well. The least that I could have done was return his loyalty. 

I didn't know what to do for five more months. If I was feeling miserable and wracked with guilt after one, I didn't know how I would deal with another five. 

My guilt was added to when I saw the missed calls from Eleanor. 

I had talked to her two weeks after Harry had gotten into rehab. She had sounded slightly irritated and disappointed in me, but she quickly grew sympathetic as our conversation went on. I'd called her again one week after that, but it had been short. 

I felt sick when I talked to her, knowing that exactly what I was doing had been what drove Harry to try to commit. I couldn't help but wonder if I hadn't started dating her, if Harry would have let himself get so damaged. I wondered if I could have loved him how he loved me. 

Liam told me countless times how shutting myself in Harry's flat every day wasn't healthy. I spent too much time alone with my thoughts, he said. 

It wasn't a bad point; I had to agree. But as upset as it made me, staying in Harry's flat was also comforting. I'd always looked to Harry for comfort, and when I could have Harry, I could have something that reminded me of him. 

I'd been to my own flat a few times, just to get clothes and assorted items. It was a bit dusty and messy, but that wasn't anything new. 

My phone rang and I instinctively went to block the call, assuming that it was Eleanor. I was in no mood to talk to her. I never really was, but some days I was in less of a mood than others. I saw that it was Zayn and I sighed, reluctantly answering it. 

"What?" I snapped, aware of my harsh tone.

The boys knew that I didn't want to talk to anyone. Yet they still insisted in calling and visiting and overall driving me insane. 

"Calm down, Lou," Zayn replied, his voice smooth over the phone.

"What do you want?" I asked, slightly less angrily. 

"A week ago, Harry asked his mum to bring him a camera and she did. He recorded himself talking and he wanted to post it so that the fans could see. Management agreed, and it's posted," he informed me. 

I jumped off of Harry's bed and started to pace his room. 

"What the fuck, Zayn? Shouldn't I have been consulted about this? They probably asked you what you thought, but no, of course they wouldn't ask me!" I snarled.

"Lou, they called you like ten times. It's not their fault if you ignore everybody," he replied cooly. 

I pulled the phone away from my ear and scrolled through my many missed calls. Yeah, there was at least a dozen from management. 

"Why didn't they get you to ask me, then?" I growled.

"They just called to get an okay from me like an hour ago, and I'm assuming they did the same with Liam and Niall. Look Lou, they understand how you're feeling," Zayn said. 

When I tried to interrupt, he cut me off, "They're trying to understand, at least. But they told us that if you're not going to act like a part of One Direction, then you might as well not be treated as one. I know that you're upset by everything, Lou, we all are. But you're skipping interviews and walking out on them, and it's making not just you, but us, look bad." 

I rolled my eyes and snorted. 

"Well I'm sorry that I don't want to answer the same fucking questions about Harry over and over. I don't even want to answer them once. And there's no point in being a member of One Direction right now, because we're missing Harry, and we've all said that if one of us is missing, then we aren't One Direction anyways!" I argued. 

I heard him take a long, deep breath and I knew that he was getting irritated. 

"Louis, we can't just drop off the face of the earth for six months. If Harry was gone for a few weeks or maybe even a month, then maybe it wouldn't be a big deal. But we can't abandon One Direction for half of a year, more than that, because Harry'll need time to readjust when he comes back. My point is, is that you've got a contract, Lou. We've been going easy on you and letting you skip interviews and such, but you can't do that. It's going against what you agreed to," he said, his voice taking a slightly hard edge. 

"Screw the contract. I don't care anymore. I don't fucking care about anything," I spat. 

"Yes you do, Louis," Zayn said, exasperated. 

For some reason, the simple sentence made me even angrier. I hung up on him. 

It was a bit cowardly. I knew that I wasn't 'dealing with my problems' or some bullshit, but I just didn't want to talk to anybody. I picked up my laptop from Harry's desk and carried it back to his bed with me, where I laid down and turned it on. 

I went to our YouTube account and clicked on the most recent video. It was simply titled 'Harry's Story' and it had nearly a million views. 

Zayn had made it sound like it had just been uploaded, but it had so many views. Our fans were concerned, so it probably shouldn't have surprised me that there was so many views. 

I clicked on it, exhaling shakily as it buffered. 

I didn't know if I really wanted to watch it. Did I want to hear the pain in Harry's voice as he told the fans what had happened to him? I grew nervous. How much had he given away? I doubted that management would have posted it if he told the fans the reason behind everything, but my heart beat faster nevertheless. 

"Hey guys." 

I jumped, not realizing that the video had started. 

Harry was looking into the camera, his mouth twitching into a tired looking smile. I noticed that Liam had been right; Harry had put on the smallest amount of weight. His cheekbones weren't so pronounced. I paused the video and took in his surroundings. A dark red wall was behind him, and he appeared to be sitting on a bed. Somebody was sitting next to him. I hit play. 

"Um. So, I decided that you guys deserved to know what's been happening. I know that the other lads have probably been answering questions, but I think that it's better if you hear from me personally, right? This is Felix, by the way. He's my roomate here," Harry said quietly, turning the camera to a blonde boy sitting next to him. 

Felix smiled at the camera and gave a little wave. 

I decided that I hated him. 

Harry turned the camera back so that it was mostly on himself, but Felix was in the edge of the frame. 

"So...I don't really know where to start, because I can't really say when everything started," Harry said. 

His voice was so quiet, almost shy. Felix murmured something and Harry rolled his eyes. 

"Not there, 'Lix," he snorted. 

Lix? I scrunched up my nose at the nickname. It sounded stupid.

"I guess it really began like...I dunno, maybe a year ago? I'm not comfortable with saying why everything happened. I think it's just too much for me right now. I've been told to take it slowly. You guys'll understand if I'm not ready to talk about something, I hope," Harry continued, "It's just...it's been only about a month since...I tried to commit and I'm still working on really facing things." 

I saw Felix's hand cover Harry's wrist comfortingly and I wondered if I could reach through the screen and remove it. I didn't like somebody that I didn't know touching Harry like that. 

"I...it really just started out as depression at first. I was...I was just kind of sad a lot of the time. It was hard not to show it in front of you guys, but I didn't want you to worry, so I tried to cover it up," Harry muttered, "It got worse over time. A few months after it started, there were days were I just couldn't get out of bed. That's when I started to eat less." 

He paused for a while and I saw him trying to piece together what he would say next. 

"I'm not...I wasn't anorexic. I just didn't want to eat. I wasn't hungry. I was too depressed to eat. A lot of the time, I couldn't remember if I had eaten or not. I think that's when everything just started to spiral out of control," he said. 

He took another moment of silence and I watched him carefully. I observed the way that he absently fixed his hair, a nervous habit of his.

"I...I started self-harming. It scared me at first. I knew that I was losing control over my depression and it terrified me. But when I got too scared, I'd just...I'd harm myself and it didn't seem quite so scary," Harry said.

He choked slightly and blinked a few times. 

If he cried, I knew that I would as well. I could already feel the tears pooling in my eyes.

"I never told anybody. The lads saw after a while, when it started getting really bad. I was past the point of even really caring about how bad I was getting. I was losing weight and I turned to a razor every time I felt overwhelmed or the depression got to be too much," Harry continued. 

His pause lasted longer than the first two, and I knew that he was struggling to collect himself. 

"When I passed out at that photoshoot, it wasn't because I was sick. I doubt that very many people believed that, anyways. I hadn't eaten a decent meal in days and I just...was too weak and I passed out," he said softly.

I remembered that day. How scared I had been, how horrified I had been when I had finally learned the truth.

"I tried to fix myself after that, but it really only lasted a few days. I started harming more and more and eating less and less. I was scaring everybody, but I wasn't really scaring myself. I only cared about one thing and I...I can't...I'm not ready to say what it was," he said softly, picking at what looked like the duvet on his bed. 

I knew that I was that thing that he cared about. I couldn't hold my tears back anymore. They spilled out, hot and wet as they trickled down my cheeks. I bit my lip to silence myself so that I could listen. 

"It was in December where things got really, really bad," Harry said.

I knew that it was my birthday party. I remembered Liam rushing out, quickly explaining that Harry was having what he thought was a panic attack.

"I made myself throw up. I don't know why. Just another form of release, like self-harming. After that...I couldn't keep food down for very long without needing to throw up. It became just as much of an addiction as self-harming. I was losing so much weight and then I started having panic attacks. They're terrifying. I felt like I couldn't breath and that my heart was going to explode. So I got medication for that, and I finally got anti-depressants. I took too many one day and it made me feel numb, so I kept taking too many," Harry explained. 

He swiped at his eyes, but not before a small tear slipped out. 

He took a deep breath, and I knew what was going to come next. 

"Then one day...something happened and I...I couldn't take it anymore. So I went and tried to commit suicide," Harry said, his voice barely a whisper, "I really didn't want to live, I hadn't wanted to for months. I wanted all the pain and sadness to end."

He made a little noise in the back of his throat and Felix nudged him comfortingly as Harry took several shaky breaths. 

"When I woke up...I can honestly say that I have never been so angry and hurt and scared and upset in my entire life. I was angry that it hadn't worked and I literally screamed at my mum and the nurses and doctors and I...I begged them to just...kill me," Harry choked. 

He didn't talk again for one minute and twenty-six seconds. He put his face in his hands and tried to stifle his crying. 

Finally, he raised his head and looked down, trying to hide his red-rimmed eyes.

"I was on suicide watch for five days, and for a good reason too. I wasn't, I'm still not, mentally stable. I probably won't be for a while. I also couldn't keep anything more complicated than some broth down without vomiting. I wasn't even trying, it was just that my stomach was, still is, so weak that I can't eat normal food. For two weeks I was eating soup. Then it was oatmeal and really thick soup. Now I'm trying to eat normal pasta. There's days where I still throw up, just because I can't handle very much. Honestly, I threw up tomato soup five times before I could keep it down and I don't think I'll ever be able to eat it ever again without feeling sick," Harry said. 

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face.

"It's been hard. I'm not just dealing with depression. I've got an eating disorder, bulimia, and I've got a self-harm addiction. There's substance abuse too, from my panic attack medication and anti-depressants, but I was never really addicted to them," Harry explained, playing with his fingers. 

"And I really am in here for just drug addictions," Felix volunteered, seeming way too cheerful. 

Yeah, I hated him, especially when he and Harry exchanged a smile. 

"There's times where Felix has to hold my arms behind my back or literally hold me down because I want to cut so badly. I have nurses to sit with me until I digest food so I can't throw it up. It's kind of funny, how something so good can turn into something so bad," Harry said quietly. 

Love. He was talking about love, his love for me.

I paused the video as I started to cry harder. It was all because of me, everything that he'd done to himself was because of me. It took twenty minutes to compose myself before I could play the video again. 

"This is what I've done to myself," he said.

He handed the camera to Felix and turned his wrists to face the camera. 

The scars on his left wrist traveled all the way down to his elbow, so many that they overlapped. Then there was two vertical scars, darker and longer than any of the others. There were two that matched on his right wrist. 

From the angle that Felix was holding the camera at, I saw that Harry was shirtless. Cuts littered his torso as well, and his ribs still stuck out disturbingly. 

"The ones on my hips to down to just above my knees," Harry said, taking the camera back. 

He shut his eyes tightly and continued to speak with them shut, "Please. If anybody out there self-harms or has an eating disorder or anything, please do not let yourself get like this. I don't know what your reason is, but it's not worth all of this pain and this struggle. Nothing is worth what I've had to go through. Nothing. I'm begging you all, don't start, or don't continue. Don't let me influence you negatively. Please." 

His last plead came out as a breathy whisper and I shuddered. 

"That's all I have to say right now. Maybe I'll make another video or something at some point, but right now, I don't think I can talk anymore," Harry said, finally looking into the camera again. His broken green eyes were red and watery. 

"I'll see you guys in five more months," he whispered.

The screen went black. 

I allowed myself to cry myself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT.   
> So I was thinking about holding a contest. 
> 
> Basically what it would be, if you're infested, would be that you would submit a chapter to be the next chapter in this book. I have zero ideas of what should happen next, so I thought that you guys could do it. So the requirements are: 
> 
> 1\. Must be over 4 pages 
> 
> 2\. Must be written in the same person that I write in. (Is it first person? I don't know haha) 
> 
> 3\. Must be messaged to me by this Sunday. 
> 
> As far as ideas go, no, Louis and Harry cannot see each other.
> 
> And it has to be within a week from when the events in this chapter happen.
> 
> So...if you want to do it, get writing, I guess? 
> 
> I feel like this is going to end awkwardly and nobody is going to do it...oh well. Or if you're not really a writer, ideas of what to make happen are always welcome.
> 
> Love you!


	10. Chapter 10

Louis's POV

I was sitting in Harry's room, watching his video for what was probably the millionth time. Most of the time I'd had to stop about halfway through because I would be crying too hard. 

I heard the front door open and I rolled my eyes, pausing the video and shutting my laptop. I waited for which ever boy it was to irritate me. 

Niall poked his head in and smiled cheerfully at me. I glared at him. 

"Do you want something? Other than how to learn how to fucking knock?" I snapped. 

"Yep. Get your shoes on. We're going out," he said simply. 

I raised my eyebrows. 

"You might be, but I'm not," I said simply, turning back to my laptop and flipping it open. 

Niall made a noise that was a cross between a sigh and a groan when he saw what I had been watching. 

"Don't torture yourself with that, Louis," he said, "You're making yourself miserable." 

"I deserve it," I said. 

He sighed heavily, looking sad. 

"No you don't, Lou. All this shit...it's not your fault, no matter what you say," he said. 

"Of course it's my fault, Niall! You know what, I'm tired of having this conversation. You don't get it; he isn't in love with you. Just leave me alone for fuck's sake," I growled. 

"Nope. You are going to come out with Liam and I and you are going to get spectacularly drunk," Niall said, his cheerfulness back. 

"If I wanted to get drunk, Niall, I'd sit in here with a bottle of vodka," I grumbled. 

"Come on Lou, you need a breath of fresh air. The only time you get out is when we have an interview or something," Niall whined. 

"Because I don't want to go out, Niall! I don't want people to fucking bother me about Harry, alright? I'm fine here!" I snapped. 

Sad Niall came back. 

"You aren't fine here, Lou. You're just tormenting yourself over something that nobody else but you blames you for. C'mon, just have a night out for once. Get your mind off of things; get pissed. It'll be good for you," he said, his eyes shining with hope. 

I stood up and glowered at him. 

"You are the only person that thinks getting drunk will be good for someone. I'll probably end up as an alcoholic because of you and then you'll have two bandmates in rehab," I said irritably as I stomped out of the room. 

Niall ignored my comment and followed me. 

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, slamming the door in his face. 

I heard him chuckle quietly on the other side, obviously pleased that he had gotten me to somewhat agree to go out. 

I intentionally took a unnecessarily long amount of time in the shower and even longer doing my hair. Niall waited patiently as I styled it, sitting on the toilet seat and talking animatedly as I ignored him. 

"Where are we going?" I asked. 

"It's not anything super public, it's okay. It's just a little bar that I found a while back. Now will you hurry up? We need to go get Liam," Niall insisted. 

I pulled on a shirt and jeans, not really knowing if they were dirty or not. I didn't care. 

"I really fucking hate you," I growled as I locked the door of Harry's flat and followed Niall to my car. 

"Love you too, Lou," Niall replied. 

Liam seemed surprised to see me as he slid into my car. 

"What the hell did you say to him to get him out?" he asked Niall. 

"He couldn't resist my charm, could you, Lou?" Niall teased, poking me. 

"Fuck you," I grunted, making him laugh. 

"Can you work your charm to put him in a better mood then?" Liam asked. 

"That's what alcohol is for, Li," Niall said. 

"Just don't get yourselves killed," Liam snorted, then froze when he realized what he'd said. 

I tensed up. 

"I think one attempt at suicide is enough for this year," I snarled, my hands tightening on the wheel. 

"I'm sorry, Lou. That was a little tasteless. I didn't realize what I said until I said it," Liam mumbled. 

I didn't reply. 

Niall gave me directions, acting as a human GPS. We finally arrived and met with the security that I assumed that Niall had called. We headed in and I immediatly headed to the bar. 

"Niall, you know this place. Get me something really fucking strong," I demanded. 

He grinned at me before giving the name of some drink. Within a few moments, a glass was set in front of me. I didn't hesitate to take a gulp of it. I shuddered as it burned my throat on the way down and warmed my stomach as it settled. I nodded at him in a approval. 

He snorted at me. 

"You are going to be so pissed by the time we'll have to carry you out of here," he chuckled. 

I rolled my eyes and took another drink. But I had to agree with him. I was determined to get very, very drunk.

 

Liam's POV

In all honesty, I really had not expected Louis to come with Niall and I. All of our other attempts to lure him out had been failures. 

But as I watched Louis down whatever he was drinking, I knew that he hadn't come out to have fun with us. I only hoped that he wouldn't do anything stupid after he got more alcohol in him. 

I noticed a group of girls eyeing us and I assumed that they were fans. They were whispering to each other excitedly, but they kept their distance. 

I prayed that they wouldn't try to talk to Louis. He was already almost done with his second drink and he was in no mood to talk. 

Niall sat next to him, holding his own drink, but not practically chugging it as Louis was doing. 

I went up to them and tapped Niall on the shoulder. 

"Try and stay relatively sober. I think those girls are fans and I'm going to need help making sure Lou doesn't do or say something stupid," I murmured in Niall's ear. 

He nodded and smiled at me. 

I knew that we had our security, but they were there mostly to make sure that we didn't get mobbed and to help us walk straight when we got drunk. I liked to watch out for the other boys when fans were around, because security couldn't exactly deal with them without making us look bad. 

If they asked them to leave us alone, it would make us look rude for not talking to them or asking them not to bother us ourselves. We preferred to do things ourselves and leave security to make sure that we didn't get hurt or overwhelmed. 

"You going to drink anything, Li?" Niall asked as Louis started on his third drink. 

"Nah. Lou, slow down, you'll make yourself sick," I sighed. 

He turned and glared at me and took a very exaggerated gulp. 

"I'm fine, Li," he said. 

His speech was already slurring slightly and we hadn't even been there for fifteen minutes. 

"If you say so," I said doubtfully. 

Within the next hour, Louis had had definitely more than enough to drink. I'd lost count of the glasses that he'd gone through. 

He was humming to himself and swaying slightly as he sat on the stool. 

"Li, d'ya think that my arse is nice?" he asked, grinning at me. 

He'd been asking Niall and I random questions, giggling at the answers no matter how serious they were. 

"You've got a wonderful arse, Lou," I snorted. 

"Liam thinks I've got a wonderful arse! I've got a wonderful arse!" Louis crowed loudly, causing people to look over at him. 

"Hush, Lou, you're being loud," I said, smiling at the group of girls that I'd assumed were fans. 

They smiled back, looking nervous. 

"I've gotta wee," Louis slurred, hopping off of his stool as gracefully as he could. 

He stumbled slightly and headed towards the neon sign that pointed to the toilets. He wasn't exactly walking in a straight line, but it wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be. 

"Think we should cut him off soon?" I asked. 

Niall shook his head. 

"I've actually been ordering some pretty weak drinks for him even though he thinks that they're strong. He thinks he's more drunk than he really is," he said. 

"That's actually a good idea," I agreed. 

"I figured that he can drink more that way. He wants to drink a lot and now he can," Niall said, looking smug. 

Louis emerged from the toilets. I noticed a girl from the group of fans go up to him. 

He smiled at her and started talking to them. He seemed pretty animated and relaxed with them. 

I watched carefully. I credited the drinks for him talking to them in the first place. 

I edged towards them and Louis waved me over. 

"Li-Li!" he shrieked. 

The girls gigged, entertained by his intoxication. 

"Hi, Louis," I said. 

The girls introduced themselves for me. Louis attempted at helping, but forgot their names most of the time and ended up in a fit of giggles. 

"You've had way too much to drink," I chided as he grinned at me. 

"The party's only just gotten started, am I right?" he asked. 

The girls nodded their agreement. 

"Don't be such a downer, Liam," one of them joked. 

Niall walked over and the introductions started again. 

He handed Louis a glass, which Louis gladly accepted. He took a sip and wrinkled his nose. 

"'S just water!" he protested. 

"You need a break from the hard stuff, mate," Niall said. 

Louis pouted and shoved the glass at one of the girls. 

"Party pooper," he mumbled under his breath. 

"Where's Zayn?" one of them asked. 

"I think he's with Perrie tonight," I replied after Niall and Louis had both shrugged, "But he's missing out." 

They all nodded their agreement. 

We talked for a while until one of them, Kallie, brought up the forbidden question. 

"So how's Harry?" she asked, smiling at us. 

Louis's eyes immediately darkened and Niall and I exchanged glances. 

"I wouldn't know," Louis spat," I haven't seen him for almost two fucking months!" 

It had been a month and a half since Harry had gone to rehab, and Louis was still extremely angry. 

"Louis," Niall said quietly, warningly, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Kallie looked taken aback. 

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say something wrong!" she said. 

Louis suddenly looked more sober than he had been since we had gotten to the bar. 

"I'm not nearly drunk enough for this," Louis snapped, storming off in the direction of the bar. 

Niall followed him. 

"I'm sorry about that. Louis is just really sensitive about that whole subject right now," I apologized, "It's not your fault." 

She looked stricken. 

"I really didn't mean to make him angry or anything! I guess I should have realized, you know, cause he always looks so upset when it's brought up in your interviews, but I just didn't think! I'm so sorry!" Kallie wailed, exchanging upset looks with her friends. 

"It's really not your fault. You didn't know. That's actually why we brought him here, to take his mind off of it," I explained. 

She looked even more guilty. 

"He's not angry with you. He's angry with himself and Harry," I added quickly. 

She nodded, still looking upset. 

"Have he and Harry really not seen each other?" one of the other girls asked. 

I thought that her name might have been Kyra, but I wasn't sure. 

"No, they haven't. Louis hasn't seen him since he was rushed to the emergency room. Harry's been refusing to see him and none of us know why. I'm really not supposed to be telling you this, by the way, so please don't tell anyone else," I begged. 

They all nodded their agreement. 

"But you can see Harry?" another girl asked. 

"Yeah, but he won't talk to us except his mum. She, his sister, Zayn, Niall, and I are the only ones on his approved visitors list. He asked that Louis be left off of it," I explained, "He wouldn't see Louis in the hospital either." 

"Well, that explains why he's angry," Kyra said. 

"It's driving him absolutely crazy," I agreed. 

"He looks exhausted," someone commented. 

I shrugged. 

"I don't think he's really been sleeping at all. We can't do much about it though, cause he refuses to take any sleeping medication," I said. 

"Is that what Harry used to...?" Kallie asked. 

I nodded and they all lowered their eyes. 

"To answer your question though, Harry is doing a little better. He's gained I think like ten pounds so far and he hasn't hurt himself," I said, quickly changing the subject. 

"That's good," the third girl said. 

I couldn't remember what her name was. 

"Yeah. Ideally, he should have gained more weight, but it's hard since his stomach can't tolerate really complex food," I said. 

"One of my friends used to have an eating disorder, but she stopped by herself. It took her ages to get better," Kallie said. 

"That's really good that she got better," I said, "And it's inspiring that she did it on her own." 

"Yeah. I'm proud of her," Kallie said. 

Niall was waving to me across the room and I noticed that Louis had his head buried in Niall's neck. 

"Niall's motioning to me, but I'll see if I can come back over later, okay?" I said. 

"We're about to leave, but it was absolutely awesome to meet you," the third girl said. 

I hugged them good bye and headed over to Niall and Louis. 

"I wanna get drunk, Niall," Louis was mumbling. 

"You are drunk," Niall snorted, but his eyes were sad as he looked at Louis. 

"Not drunk enough," Louis sighed, sitting up to take the glass that he was handed by the bartender. 

Within another forty-five minutes though, he was most certainly drunk enough. 

He babbled incoherently to Niall, who watched him with an amused expression. 

"And then he was like, it's a peacock, but I was like no, he stole the banana and then all the hippos just started playing football. It was a good time, you should have been there," Louis slurred, poking Niall's cheek. 

"I'll have to come next time, then. But I think we should get you out of here. You're absolutely smashed, mate," Niall laughed, mimicking Louis's pout. 

"But me and Jerome are having so much fun!" Louis shrieked, patting the bartender's arm affectionately, "Aren't we, Jerome?" 

I had to control my laughter at the bemused look on the bartender's face. I let a small snort slip as I noticed that his name tag read 'Chris' and definitely not 'Jerome'. 

"You can come back some other time, Lou, but don't you wanna go home and get some rest? You look knackered," I tried. 

Louis shook his head and tightened his hold on Chris's arm, like a child refusing to let go of it's parent. 

"No!" he said stubbornly. 

Niall peeled his hands off of the poor bartender and smiled an apology. 

"Let's go, mate. Jim or Jerry or whatever you said will wait for you to come back," he snickered. 

Louis could be an absolute menace when he was drunk. We'd all had to deal with each other being intoxicated, but we all agreed that Louis was the worst. He could be loud and extremely obnoxious and he would get clingy and his emotions would get absolutely scrambled. 

Louis honestly looked like he was going to cry at the loss of his new 'friend', so Niall quickly waved our security over. 

"We're ready to leave," he informed them. 

"No we're not!" Louis mumbled, but he stood and nearly toppled over. 

We paid his rather large tab and left. Louis blew kisses to an extremely confused Chris and giggled hysterically on the way out. 

He had to practically be held up as he stumbled outside. Predictably, there were fans waiting and Niall and I waved. Louis just mumbled things under his breath and occasionally tripped over his own feet. 

Suddenly, in the middle of the fans, he stopped and turned to face one of our guards. 

He stood still and stared for a good two minutes. Everyone was confused at his sudden halt, and I prayed that he didn't vomit everywhere. 

He raised his eyebrows. 

"You, my good sir, are the strangest looking orange that I have ever seen," he said, completely seriously. 

Everyone that had heard him burst into laughter and he looked around in bewilderment but gave a little smile regardless. 

"Take me home, Eugene!" he ordered. 

Apparently he was getting a kick out of making up names for people because Eugene was definitely not the guard's name. It was in fact Sean. 

Eventually, we wrestled Louis into his car and I waved goodbye to our security. 

"Let's get you home, okay, Lou? Or you can stay at my place," I suggested. 

"No. Harry. Harry's home," he mumbled, trying to lick the window. 

My heart sank as I heard the double meaning. I wasn't sure if he was literally asking me to take him to Harry's flat or if he really did mean that Harry was his home in general. 

Niall looked at me and shrugged as Louis started humming and bouncing in the seat like nothing was wrong in his life.

 

Niall and I ended up staying at Harry's flat with Louis, sleeping together in his spare bedroom. 

I got up in the morning and wandered into the kitchen. 

There were a few groceries, but not many. I couldn't imagine that Louis had gone out to buy more, seeing as he refused to go out in general. 

I ended up making toast and sitting at the table, thinking quietly. 

Eventually, Niall padded in and yawned as he looked at me. 

"Lou not up yet?" he asked, plucking a half-eaten slice of toast out of my hand and biting into it. 

I rolled my eyes at him. 

"Make your own toast, Nialler. But no, he's not. I think he'll sleep for a while though, with how little sleep he's been getting in the first place. Maybe getting him drunk was a lot better idea than we even thought," I said. 

"I take credit for it," he said. 

"Your ideas are always to get people drunk. It wasn't an original idea from you," I snorted. 

He shrugged. 

"I still take credit for it," he replied. 

We spent the rest of the morning buying Louis food. He had very little and I figured that with how hungover he was going to be, he had no plans to go out. 

When we got back, I looked into Harry's- or Louis's- room. It was a mess, obviously; Louis Tomlinson was living in it. He had swaddled himself in the sheets and he was clutching a pillow to his chest. His mouth hung open in a mildly entertaining way. 

What struck me was how peaceful he looked. He was sleeping, so of course he looked peaceful, but he hadn't looked so relaxed since months before Harry had tried to commit. It was foreign to see him like that. 

Niall came up behind me. 

"That's a little bit creepy, Li," he murmured. 

"I know," I replied. 

I took one last look at Louis, not knowing when I'd get to see him so calm again, and walked back down the hallway. 

Harry's flat wasn't exactly small, but it wasn't huge. He'd initially bought a bigger house, but he rarely lived there, saying that it was too lonely. He'd eventually bought the flat because it was smaller, but he still owned the house for some reason. 

He had loved living with Louis, even if it had hurt to be just friends with him. Harry wasn't an independant person. He hadn't wanted to live alone after the X Factor, which was part of the reason he and Louis had lived together. They had always talked about it, but I remembered Harry shyly admitting that he would get too lonely without Louis if they lived separately. 

I knew that Harry had secretly loved cooking for Louis everyday, that he kind of enjoyed chastising him for being so messy, and that he didn't mind when Louis crawled into bed with him when Louis couldn't sleep, even before Harry had fallen in love with him. 

Harry had just liked taking care of Louis and vice versa. He depended on Louis more than Louis realized. 

When they had gotten separate places, Harry had called me, in tears. I hadn't known that he was in love with Louis yet, although I would find out soon, but I knew that Harry hadn't wanted them to live apart. Harry had cried over the phone about how big and empty and lonely and Louis-less his new house was. 

I'd let him stay with me for a few nights, and then he'd left to go to Nick Grimshaw's. He later told me that while staying with Grimmy wasn't as lonely, he'd much rather live with Louis. 

"What are you thinking about?" Niall asked. 

"Just Harry. And Louis. But mostly Harry," I sighed. 

He didn't make me elaborate, which I appreciated. He stayed quiet, letting me think. He rested his head on my shoulder and drifted into his own thoughts. 

I didn't know how much time had passed, but we both jumped when there was a loud groan from Louis's room. 

"Someone just woke up," Niall sing-songed quietly from beside me. 

"Who the fucks idea was it to get me drunk?" Louis moaned from his- Harry's- room. 

"Paracetamol and water next to the bed, mate!" Niall yelled back. 

A few minutes of inhumane noises later, Louis shuffled out. He honestly didn't look bad. I was used to his red eyes and his exhaustion, and both had vanished from his long rest. However, his hair was a mess and he essentially looked the stereotypical hungover person. 

"Can someone turn that fucking light off?" he mumbled, rubbing his palms over his eyes. 

Niall and I exchanged an amused glance. 

"There aren't any lights on; that would be the sun, Lou. You can't exactly turn the sun off," I chuckled. 

He threw me a dirty glare and his middle finger. 

"It's the truth," I said, shrugging. 

"Christ, I think I'm seriously going to die," he groaned, "Like, I have never been this hungover before." 

"Don't think I've ever seen you quite so pissed either, mate," Niall said. 

Louis flopped onto the sofa and groaned again. Evidentially, the quick movement hadn't been a wise idea. 

"I didn't do anything stupid, did I? I'm not going to get hell from management?" he asked warily. 

"I think you tried to chat up the bartender, plus you called him Jerome and you also called Sean the strangest orange that you had ever seen and you thought his name was Eugene," Niall said. 

"When we got back here, you also became convinced that you were a cat. You wouldn't get off of Niall's lap and you kept demanding that he pet you. We had to carry you to bed because you tried to crawl like a cat and you were much too drunk to move your legs and arms at the same time," I added. 

"Are you sure someone didn't like spike my drink or something?" Louis mumbled, his eyes shut. 

"You were knockin' 'em back too quick for that," Niall replied. 

"Shit, I flipped out at that fan, didn't I?" Louis moaned. 

"Yeah. But I took care of it; everything's fine," I replied. 

He made a strangled noise. 

"I'm never drinking again," he said. 

"Lou, you say that every time you're even slightly hung over," Niall said. 

"Niall," Louis said. 

"What Lou?" Niall snickered. 

"Shut the fuck up and turn that fucking sun off."

 

Harry's POV

I stared at myself in the mirror and frowned. 

"Felix, am I getting fat?" I called. 

"Harry, you're still like fifteen pounds underweight. You're not fat," he snapped. 

"I'm fat," I muttered under my breath. 

I'd gained weight over the past month and a half and I hated it. I'd never been insecure about my weight before, but as the sharp edges of my ribs and hips disappeared, I realized that I had liked being skinny a lot more than what I looked like now. 

I pinched skin on my hips in between my fingers and cringed. I hadn't been able to do that before I'd come to rehab. I'd been too skinny. 

"I'm getting fat," I repeated softly, too softly for Felix to hear. 

I knew that he hated hearing me say that I was getting fat. I reminded him off Matt when I did, and it had to hurt. 

I eyed the toilet and wished that I could vomit up all of the fat that clung to my body, or that I could just not eat. I missed the raw, constant pain of being hungry. 

I couldn't even work it off; I wasn't allowed to work out until I was back at what the doctors said was a healthy weight. 

Felix had said that I was still fifteen pounds underweight and I shuddered as I thought of how disgusting I'd look when I gained that much weight. 

It was weird. I had never starved myself or made myself throw up because I thought I was fat, but as I looked at myself in the mirror, I wondered how I hadn't ever seen how fat I had been. 

I was getting treated for eating disorders because of depression, but I was wanting to throw up because I thought I was fat. I was getting an eating disorder while getting treated for eating disorders. 

Logic. 

"Harry, quit looking at yourself. If you think you're fat, then that must mean I'm obese," Felix said. 

I shuffled out into our room and sat down on my bed. 

"But you aren't fat, Felix! You're muscular! By the time I gain all this fucking weight, I'm going to be huge cause I can't even gain it in muscle! Do they want me to check out and not be able to fit through the fucking door?" I snapped. 

Felix stood and pulled me up. He dragged me in front of the mirror that I had just been looking into and he took off his shirt. 

"You're half as wide as me and you think you're fat?" he hissed. 

I nodded. 

"Look!" I complained, pinching the skin on my stomach, "I couldn't do that before! I'm getting fat, Felix, stop trying to convince me otherwise!" 

He licked his lips and seethed. 

"I don't understand eating disorders. You can lose so much weight that you're about to fucking die from it, but you still think that you're fat. I just don't understand it," he snarled. 

"Because I am fat!" I protested. 

"You are not fat, Harry!" he yelled. 

I flinched and he sighed in irritation. 

"Look, I can't help you with this, so you better bring it up when you talk to Aysiah. I don't want to lose someone else that I care about because they're thin as a pole but they think they're fat, okay?" he said, trying to be more gentle. 

I glared at him. 

"You just don't understand," I growled. 

"No. I don't," he agreed. 

He left our room and I continued to look in the mirror and hate what I saw.


	11. Chapter 11

Liam's POV

We were on the way to a meeting with our management. We planned to discuss what was going to happen in the next four and a half months. 

I had a feeling that they were going to have a little 'talk' with Louis as well, regarding his behavior. 

Niall poked my side and motioned over to Zayn and Louis. They were sitting behind us. 

Louis was nodding off, his head slowly dipping only to jerk up as he shook himself awake. Eventually, he leaned against Zayn's shoulder and stayed still. 

I frowned, through Niall seemed to find it quite entertaining. 

"He hasn't been sleeping, Niall. Don't make fun of him," I sighed. 

"But he slept pretty well a few days ago," he protested. 

"He was so drunk that he passed out. That's not going to work every night," I replied, glancing back at Louis and Zayn. 

Zayn blinked back and shifted Louis, whose head was about to slip off of Zayn's shoulder. 

"Why can't we just make him take something for it? We can hold his mouth closed or something," Niall argued. 

"Because, it's not that he just doesn't like taking pills, Niall. He associates sleeping medication with Harry being dead. I can understand why he doesn't want to take any," I said. 

"What about a liquid kind? That exists, doesn't it?" Zayn suggested quietly, as to not wake Louis up. 

"I guess. I just hate seeing him so tired. Have you noticed that he does this a lot, falling asleep on the way to places?" I asked. 

Niall nodded and Zayn made a little sound of agreement. 

"It's a little dangerous, don't you think? Like, if you don't get enough sleep, can't your body just shut down and you just pass out?" Niall asked. 

"I dunno, " I said. 

The car jerked to a sudden stop and Louis's head flew up as he blinked awake. 

"We almost there?" he mumbled drowsily. 

I noticed the dark circles under his eyes and how pale exhaustion had left his usually tan skin. 

"Yeah, I think so," I said. 

He grimaced and rubbed his eyes. yawning. 

"Was I out for long?" he asked. 

"About three minutes," Niall snorted. 

Louis groaned and yawned again. 

"Christ, I'm tired," he sighed. 

"Lou, we were talking, and we thought you could see if you could use like liquid medicine to help you sleep since pills make you uncomfortable," I suggested. 

He looked at me, his eyes dull. 

"I don't need anything, Liam. I'm fine," he snapped. 

"You aren't fine, Louis. You can hardly keep your eyes open," Zayn argued, "And no offense mate, but you look terrible." 

"Well, I'm sorry that I have fucking nightmares every time I close my eyes! No bloody medicine can erase these fucking memories, can it?" Louis snarled. 

I could sense a fight coming on, and I quickly set out to put a stop to it. 

"Lou, calm down. It was just a suggestion, okay? You don't have to if you really don't want to. We just want you to be healthy, yeah?" I said gently. 

"I'm fine," Louis snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Zayn glared at him, irritated with Louis's stubbornness. Thankfully, before either of them could launch a bigger war, the car stopped and we were being ordered to get out. 

I couldn't see any fans, but I knew that they'd probably be outside when we left. 

I looped my arm around Louis's shoulders and he sagged in my grip. 

"I think I'm more mentally tired than physically tired," he said quietly. 

"We all are. I'm just worried for you, Lou. I don't like seeing you so tired," I said softly. 

He nodded, looking defeated. 

Louis was strong, he'd proven it many times since we'd been put together. It was unnerving to see him so helpless. 

"I feel dizzy," he whispered to me as we went up steps inside of the building, trying to reach the right floor. 

"Are you alright?" I asked, immediately worried. 

"I dunno. I just feel really light-headed," he mumbled. 

I noticed that he was breathing much heavier than a flight of stairs required. 

"You should probably sit down, okay? Taking the stairs when you're so tired isn't a good idea," I said quickly. 

He nodded. I noticed the color draining from his face and my heart started to beat quickly from nervousness and worry. 

We reached the top of the flight and Niall and Zayn started to jog up the next set of steps. 

"Wait, hold on," I called. 

I led Louis over to the bottom of the steps and he sagged down against the wall, sitting on the edge of a step. 

He was sweating, I noticed. 

"What's wrong?" Zayn asked, running back down the stairs. 

"Dizzy," Louis said quietly, leaning his head back. 

Zayn swore under his breath and sat down next to Louis. He rubbed his hand over Louis's arm in a comforting gesture. 

"I feel like I'm going to pass out or something," Louis whispered. 

"It's alright, Lou, just relax for a few minutes," I said. 

Niall stood against the railing and chewed his nail. 

"Go run up and tell someone that we're going to be a bit late," I ordered. 

He nodded and took off up the stairs. 

"I'm so sorry," Louis sighed, "I just can't sleep no matter what I do and now I feel so dizzy all the time, but it's never really been this bad." 

"You also haven't been running up stairs recently. You're already so exhausted and you didn't have any energy to do so," I said. 

"I'm sorry," he repeated, biting his lip. 

He opened his eyes and I saw that they were swimming with tears. 

"Sh, it's okay. Do you think you can stand? I can carry you if you want," I offered, smiling at him. 

I stood and helped pull him up. He swayed a little as he stood. He jumped onto my back. 

I wasn't weak by any means, but with the added weight on my back and three more flights of stairs, I was winded by the time we reached the correct office. 

I put Louis down, but kept an arm tightly around him. 

His color was returning. 

We walked in, and Niall rushed over. 

"You okay, Louis?" he asked. 

"'M fine now, Niall," Louis said, attempting at a small smile. 

We went through the meeting and nobody mentioned Louis's incident on the stairs. I carried him back down, which was terrifying as it threw my balance off. 

We went back to Harry's place with him. I clutched a bottle of medicine that we'd picked up on our way. 

"Come on, Lou," I sighed as he kept his mouth locked shut. 

He shook his head, his eyes wide and he almost looked scared. 

"Louis, we can't have another episode like today. You really need to sleep. Just do it, okay? Don't think about it," Zayn coaxed. 

"No, I'm really not comf-" 

Louis was cut off as I quickly shoved the plastic cup against his open mouth and tipped the contents inside. 

Zayn pinched Louis's nose shut and Niall made sure he didn't spit anything out. 

Louis looked like he was going to cry as he thrashed against us. I held his hands together. 

With a protesting cough, he swallowed the medicine. 

He immediately stormed into Harry's room, I wasn't sure if I considered it Louis's, and slammed the door. 

"Well, we just made him really mad," Niall sighed, placing the cap back on the bottle. 

"It's for a good cause. He kind of scared me today," Zayn admitted. 

"Did you see how pale his face got? It was freaky," Niall agreed. 

We waited about fifteen minutes before creeping into Harry's room. 

Louis was sprawled out on the bed, his face tear stained. 

But he was asleep. 

Zayn, Niall, and I exchanged silent high-fives and left Louis to a well-earned rest.

 

Harry's POV

I picked at the chicken in front of me and grimaced. 

I was allowed to choose my own meals because my stomach had adjusted to a lot of food, but I hadn't tried to eat meat before. 

I had hardly taken a few bites before I vomited. 

Yeah. It was way too complex for my stomach to handle. 

I slunk back to my room after a bowl of soup, a routine dish after I threw up. 

I immediately went into the bathroom and glared at myself in the mirror. I felt like I could see the calories attaching themselves to me. I could practically see myself getting heavier as I watched. 

I stayed in the bathroom until I had to go and see Aysiah. 

Our visits always consisted of conversation for the first half, then she would try and bring up Louis and I would refuse to talk for the rest of our time. 

I entered and she smiled. I gave her my usual scowl. 

"How are you today, Harry?" she asked politely. 

"Terrible," I grumbled. 

I had discovered how fat I was, of course I wasn't doing well! 

"Why?" she asked. 

I shrugged. 

"Because I really fucking hate this place. I don't want to eat, but I have to. I want to cut, but I can't. I just want everything to go away!" I snarled. 

Aysiah nodded carefully. 

"Harry, you're here to help everything bad to go away. Starving yourself, self-harming, and abusing your medication was not helping you. I know that it's hard right now, but it will get better," she said comfortingly. 

"It'll never get better. Not unless Louis suddenly loves me," I snapped. 

I felt my chest squeeze when I said his name and tears rushed to my eyes upon instinct. 

"You've never said his name before," Aysiah said. 

"It slipped out," I spat through gritted teeth, trying to control myself. 

"Could you talk about him more now that you've said his name once? I think it's time that you do, honestly. Keeping all of your thoughts blocked off or bottled up isn't healthy," she said. 

I clenched my hands into fists and glared at the floor. 

"No. I don't want to talk about him now and I don't want to talk about him ever," I hissed. 

"Have you let yourself think about how it's going to be when you leave here? You're going to have to face him almost every day. You can't just dive in head first back into reality, Harry. You need to prepare yourself," she warned. 

I cringed. I'd heard the same lecture from Felix before. I understood where they were coming from, but I couldn't help it. I just couldn't think about him; it hurt so badly. 

"At least tell me why it's so difficult for you to talk about him. I know that you have negative memories associated with him, but you've shared negative memories with me before. What's so different about him?" Aysiah prompted. 

I shook my head slowly. I was being pulled into a conversation that I didn't want to have. 

"It just hurts to think about him," I whispered. 

"Why?" she asked. 

"Because when I do, I just remember how much I love him and how he doesn't love me like that. Love is stronger than any other emotion that I feel regarding him and I just can't talk about him without hurting," I said, my throat tight. 

"Why do you love him, then? What's so special about him that you can't get over and it makes you hurt like this?" Aysiah asked, "Why not love somebody who will love you back?" 

She was being quite blunt and I wasn't sure if I liked or hated it. I decided that I hated her in general, just because she was forcing me to talk about things I didn't want to talk about. 

I picked at a rip in my jeans and stayed quiet. I tried to force my thoughts into a back room of my brain so that I wouldn't have to answer her. They wouldn't go and the thoughts of soft chestnut hair and bright blue eyes overwhelmed me. 

"He's just...he's perfect. He's gorgeous. He's got these amazing blue eyes and his hair is always so soft and intentionally messy. He's really short too, and I think that it's absolutely adorable. He's always so loud and funny and bossy and stubborn, but he can be really serious and he's an amazing listener. He does the nicest things, too. Like this one time when I got sick, he essentially blew off Zayn so he could stay with me and take care of me even though I really wasn't very sick. But he's just so perfect," I said, smiling slightly. 

Then I realized that all of the things that I loved about him could never be mine and I had to lower my head to blink tears away. 

"Then what do you dislike about him?" Aysiah asked. 

I glared at her. I was trying so hard not to start bawling and she carried on like I was perfectly happy. 

"He never noticed how depressed I was until Liam made me show him. I don't like how oblivious he was. And I hate that he doesn't love me like I love him. But I can't hate anything else about him," I answered, "He's just so perfect." 

My voice was so thick that it sounded like I was being choked. In all honesty, I would have preferred to be choked than to talk about him. 

"You're not saying his name," Aysiah commented. 

"Neither are you," I countered. 

"No. I figured that since you weren't comfortable saying it yourself, you wouldn't be comfortable with me saying it. Can you say his name?" she asked. 

It sounded like a challenge. I shook my head, but I couldn't help but open my mouth to try. 

"L-Lou," I mumbled, "Louis. I'm in love with Louis Tomlinson and I really fucking hate it but his name is Louis and I love him." 

She grinned her approval. 

I shut my eyes and let his name bounce around inside of my head. It hurt and I felt my head start to pound. 

"I want to be done for today," I whispered, covering my face with my hands, "I don't want to talk about him anymore." 

I felt bile start to rise in my throat and I wondered how upset Aysiah would be if I vomited all over her desk. 

"We don't have to if you really don't think that you can," she said gently, "But it's very good that you've started to talk about him." 

"I feel sick," I mumbled, "I want to go and sleep." 

"Alright. We can be done if you want then," she said. 

I got up to leave. 

"Wait, Harry," she called. 

I turned, my vision blurry with unshed tears. I knew what she was going to ask. 

"Do you still want to die?" she asked. 

She asked the same question at the end of every session. I had never hesitated to say yes. 

I thought about Louis. He had always been the one light in the darkness that I had become. He'd been the fraying rope that I'd held on to when I felt the worst. But when he'd proposed, the light had shut off and the rope had snapped. I'd gotten lost and I'd fallen until I could fall no further and I had to end my own life. 

I remembered how I'd felt when I woke up. I'd wanted to see him so badly and beg him to love me since I had told him how I felt about him. 

I remembered how hurt and torn he'd sounded when he had talked to me while he thought that I was sleeping. I had been the reason for the pain and confusion in his voice. 

Emotions swirled inside of my body, threatening to burst and destroy me. I wanted to be destroyed; I wanted to be ruined. I wanted to die so badly because I couldn't have what I needed the most. 

"Yes," I replied, hardly missing a beat. 

Aysiah nodded in return, and motioned for me to leave. 

I had grown used to stumbling back to my room, blind from the tears I hadn't shed while talking to Aysiah. 

I crept inside and made out a blurry Felix on his bed. I climbed in next to him and buried my face in his shoulder. 

In his familiar, comforting presence, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. 

He simply held me, his arms tight and warm around my body, and he shushed me gently. 

"What's gotten you so upset this time?" he asked, his voice soft. 

I took several deep, shuddering breaths and sniffed back more tears. 

"I talked about him. Louis," I whispered, "And it hurts, Felix, it hurts really, really bad." 

A few more tears slid out and soaked into his shirt as he pulled me in tighter, kissing my hair. 

With a wave of longing, I realized how similar the relationship between Felix and I was to Louis and I before he had gotten fed up with the rumors. I remembered Louis holding me as I cried when we had gotten voted off the X-Factor as he had cried himself. It was one of the rare moments that he let himself do so. 

I didn't want to replace Louis. I wanted him as he was, but I wanted him as mine and I couldn't have him. 

"Doesn't it feel a little good though? You've been holding your thoughts about him inside of you for so long," Felix said. 

"I wish he didn't exist sometimes," I admitted, feeling guilty the second that I said it, "I wouldn't have to hurt so much." 

"But think about the good memories with him. You wouldn't have those if he didn't exist," Felix pointed out, running his hand through my hair. 

I shut my eyes and laid my head on his shoulder. 

"I wish I didn't exist. I want to die all the time, more than I want to cut or throw up," I said quietly. 

Felix sighed heavily. 

"But think about how much you have to lose. You have four, five if you're counting me, best friends who think the world of you, all of your fans who you mean everything to, your family, One Direction that isn't One Direction without you, and just everything that you've worked so hard for. You'd lose it all if you died," he said. 

I fumbled around his face until I found his mouth and pressed a finger to it. 

"Shut up. You're making me feel guilty and selfish," I sighed. 

"That's kind of the point," he mumbled around my finger, pulling it off and holding my hand in his. 

I made an effort to pull it away, but he tightened his grip. 

"Look at the difference of our hands," he said. 

I opened my eyes and lifted my head as he put our hands side by side on his chest. 

"Yours are so skinny. You can practically see through them," he mused, "I've got thin fingers but they look fat next to yours." 

I took my hand away. 

"Did you talk to Aysiah about how you feel about gaining weight?" he asked. 

I shook my head. 

"Harry," he sighed, sounding disappointed. 

I cringed, hating the tone of his voice. 

"She started talking about you know, Louis, and it just slipped my mind, Felix. It's not a big deal anyways," I muttered, shifting away from him. 

It felt cold on the edge of his bed. 

"Harry, it is a big deal. If you feel this way now, then how are you going to feel when you're back at a healthy weight? I don't want you to leave and then drop all that weight again like Matt did. I don't want another phone call telling me that my best friend died," he snapped. 

"Am I your best friend?" I asked, moving back and throwing an arm around him. 

"I don't have anyone else," he said softly, "Yeah, you're my best friend." 

"Louis used to be my best friend. And then I fell in love with him and fucked everything up. I think you might be my best friend too," I mumbled, yawning. 

Crying had tired me out. I shut my eyes again and nosed his arm until he wrapped it around me. I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. 

It was another thing that I had done with Louis. We had cuddled so much that our own band mates had questioned our relationship. I remembered one time when I had been laying on Zayn's lap, Louis had literally picked me up and carried me away so I could cuddle with him instead. It had been way back when I was actually smaller than him. 

"Then don't put me through what Matt did. I wouldn't be able to take it if it happened again," he sighed, absently running his fingers through my hair. 

I hummed in content. 

"I'll try. You help me a lot, you know," I said drowsily. 

"That's nice to hear. I wish I could help more. I hate seeing you hurt all the time. I really hate when you don't get out of bed or talk to anyone for days. It scares me, you know," he sighed, "I really do care a lot about you. I wish that I could stay with you until you leave." 

"You're leaving in like a month and a half, aren't you?" I mumbled, "You better visit. Or just stay or something. I don't wanna be alone." 

"You'll get another roommate, I think," Felix said. 

I yawned again in response. 

"You're comfortable. My new roommate wouldn't be this comfortable," I slurred, sleep taking over. 

He laughed softly. 

"Just go to sleep, popstar. You're practically falling asleep mid-sentence," he said. 

I nodded and drifted off. 

When I woke up, I was startled to find myself in my own bed and Felix out of the room. 

I looked at the time. According to his schedule, Felix was at his own therapy appointment. He had some man who specialized in substance abuse. 

My stomach growled and I rolled my eyes. I stood and put my shoes on to go out. God forbid that I ever feel hungry. 

I got a plate of spaghetti and a bowl of salad and stomped over to a table. I choked down the food and glared at the clock as I waited to be allowed to leave. 

When a sufficient amount of time passed, I couldn't get back to my room fast enough. I just wanted to sleep. I wasn't necessarily tired; I just wanted to be alone and with all the nurses watching my every move, sleep felt like the only time I got to be alone. 

My stomach gave a little lurch as I stepped inside and I had to cover my mouth to keep from throwing up. Pasta always made me feel more sick than just making my stomach hurt. 

Felix gave me a sympathetic glance as I wordlessly fell into my bed. 

"I've been thinking," he started. 

"Good job," I mumbled, dry-heaving again. 

Felix payed it no attention. He knew that I wouldn't actually throw up if I hadn't already. 

"You've never sung for me. You're a world-famous popstar and I've known you for almost two months, yet I've never heard you sing," he said. 

"I don't want to sing," I grumbled, "Reminds me too much of him." 

"Your voice is getting out of practice. You should sing so you don't get rusty," he advised, "Plus, I want to hear you." 

"If I sing now, you'll get digested spaghetti all over you," I groaned, flinching as my stomach cramped. 

"Just one song. Little Things," he prompted. 

"Why do you know our songs? You hardly knew who I was when I came," I sighed, sitting up. 

"I told you, my sister likes you guys. I might have done a bit of research too," he said. 

I frowned. 

"How? We're not allowed access to the Internet," I said. 

"You're not allowed," he corrected. 

"It's just me? I've never seen any computers or anything. Why is it just me?" I asked, extremely confused. 

"Harry, not all of us are popstars who get thousands of hate messages a day. They don't want you to see that, so no Internet for you. To answer your other question, you've got to ask a staff member to use a computer. There's some office room or something if you need to use one," Felix replied. 

I made a face. 

"Why can't I just go on? I want to talk to the fans and let them know that I'm alright," I said, wrinkling my nose. 

"It's not good for your metal health, popstar," he said simply, "You could always make another one of those videos." 

I shrugged and my stomach cramped again. 

"Fuck," I groaned, laying back and running my hands over my face, "Just...fuck me." 

"I'm not into that kind of thing," Felix joked. 

I glared at him and he lifted his hands defensively. 

"You seem more like a top anyways. Plus, Louis has a nice arse," he continued, laughing. 

I flinched and immediately stood and escaped to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. 

I knew that Felix was just joking around, but he knew that anything regarding Louis was off limits. 

"Harry? Look, I'm sorry, I know that that was really tasteless. I'm sorry," he said on the other side of the door. 

I sunk to the floor and hugged my knees to my chest, fresh tears wetting my jeans. 

It seemed like the only thing I could do was cry. I couldn't cut or throw up or take pills to make myself feel better or at least a little numb. I couldn't do anything anymore and it was all strange and scary. 

I started to cry harder; I wasn't even sure what I was crying about anymore. I didn't know if it was over Felix's innuendo or how out of control I was feeling. 

I got to my knees and rifled through the bathroom as quietly as possible, looking desperately for anything remotely sharp. 

I couldn't find anything and I choked on sob. Felix was still apologizing profusely and begging me to open the door. 

I looked into the mirror and saw a stranger. When had I become so foreign to myself? I didn't recognize the malnourished body that I thought was fat, or the scars that were scattered across my body, of the broken tears that slipped out of my eyes. 

I paced back and forth in the small space and tugged at my hair, willing myself to calm down before I had an anxiety attack. 

I gripped the counter so hard that my knuckles turned white and I took slow, deep breaths. 

I couldn't even control my breathing. Just the feeling of having no grip on myself made panic race through my body and my attempts at steady breathing were lost. My sides heaved as I tried to force air into my lungs, to much, yet not enough. 

"Harry? Seriously, I can hear your breathing and it doesn't sound good; let me in so I can help you," Felix pleaded. 

My skin crawled with the burning need to release the panic I felt and lights hovered at the edge of my vision as I started to hyperventilate. 

I slid back to the ground, too weak to stand. I had a vague feeling of pain as my forehead hit the counter. I tried everything that my clouded mind could think of to calm down, or at least get up and let Felix in, but I couldn't move. 

I knew that I needed his help, that I really was in a dangerous situation, but I couldn't make myself move. All of my strength was going towards fighting to breath. 

I choked on air and I sucked in desperate mouthfuls of oxygen as I struggled to even stay conscious. 

I knew that if I could just cut or throw up, I could calm down. I just needed to take control of myself again. 

Anxiety attacks are absolutely terrifying. I couldn't breath or even think as I lay on the floor, trying to focus on something in the room in order to stay awake. 

I distantly heard Felix pounding on the door and the sound of my own frantic hyperventilating. 

I felt numb, but at the same time, I could feel wetness on my face. I wasn't sure if it was tears or spit as I continued to choke. 

Lights crowded into my vision, making me even dizzier, and then it just went black.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry's POV 

When I woke up, I nearly vomited from the pain in my head. I would have legitimately vomited if I had had much in my stomach.  
I opened my eyes to a slight squint and saw Felix sitting by my bed.   
"You're up," he said quietly, playing with my fingers, "I'm going to go tell the nurses."   
"What the hell happened?" I mumbled.   
Felix opened the door and slipped out, only to return a moment later. He came back to sit next to me.   
"You had an extremely severe panic attack, basically. You started to hyperventilate and you lost oxygen to your brain, so you passed out. You also have a nasty cut on your forehead from banging it off the sink," he explained.  
A nurse bustled in.  
"Mr. Styles! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up!" she said cheerfully.   
Felix tensed beside me and I squeezed his hand with the fingers that he held.   
"S' Harry," I corrected.   
I hated when they called me 'Mr. Styles'. It sounded stupid to be calling a nineteen-year-old 'Mr.' anything.   
"Right, Harry. What I need you to do is just sit up. Take it easy, you hit your head pretty hard," she cautioned.  
I scowled and sat up quickly. Then I realized that I should have taken her advice. My head spun and little lights flickered at the edge of my vision.  
"We need to test you to make sure that you don't have a concussion," she said, "Can you walk?"   
I took my time standing up and Felix grabbed my waist to support me. We made our way down to the medical section of the facility.  
I sat for what felt like hours, answering questions, getting a light shined into my eyes and stitches in my forehead.   
It turned out that I, in fact, did not have a concussion.   
I walked past a mirror and winced. My forehead was black and blue with a newly stitched cut stretching from the center to the right and ending at my hairline,   
I was made to get a snack and Felix and I headed back to our room so that I could rest.  
I automatically crawled into his bed with him as I bit into the banana.   
"I'm really sorry for what I said earlier. I feel horrible for making you have an attack that bad," he said softly.   
The guilt was prominent in his voice.   
"S' not your fault, really. It was more because I just felt so out of control in my life. Like I can't make my own decisions anymore. I just kinda lost it after that. What happened after I passed out?" I asked.  
Felix sighed heavily.   
"I remembered that I had a key to the bathroom for situations just like that. Like in case you were throwing up or hurting yourself and I needed to get in. Anyways, I found you on the floor with blood all over your face and you weren't really breathing, so I gave you CPC," he said.  
"You know CPR?" I asked.   
"No. I kind of made it up as I went along. But it worked!" he admitted, smiling slightly.   
I grinned back.  
"I'm sorry too, you know, for scaring you. Don't give me that look, Felix, I know that I scared you," I said.   
"Yeah, I guess you did. I just...you should have heard yourself. I didn't know if you were actually choking on something or not. And then there was this really loud thunk when I think you fell and hit your head. I was really worried that you'd found something to hurt yourself with too," he admitted.   
I curled closer to him to comfort us both.   
"I'm fine, Felix," I said softly.  
"You wouldn't be here if you were fine," he replied.  
There was something dark in his eyes and it worried me.   
"Are you alright? And don't lie," I asked, looking directly at him.   
He gave me a small half-smile.  
"I'm fine, popstar, just like you," he replied.  
It only occured to me later what he had meant by that. When I'd said I was fine, he had corrected me. He had essentially said that he wasn't fine and it bothered me.  
My mum and the lads visited the next day.   
Felix was sprawled out on his bed as my mum walked in, and he smiled at her.  
"Hello," he greeted.  
They'd met before, several times actually. My mum had told me that she really liked him, yet another thing that made me feel like this was the Louis thing repeating itself.   
"Hello, Felix. Hi, honey," she said, in the gentle voice that she used around me.   
"Hi," I replied quietly, taking my customary seat by the window.   
"I have some news," my mum said, smiling.   
"What is it?" I asked.  
"We've decided that we're getting married on June 1st," she said.  
'We' was my mum and Robin, her boyfriend who was essentially already my step-dad.   
I nodded and tried to smile back at her. I loved that my mum came and visited me, but I always felt so overwhelmed and upset around her. She reminded me so much of the outside world, the one that was filled with Louis.   
"I'm going to miss your wedding," I sighed, "I'm sorry."   
"We're going to try and see if you can get out for that day. And if not, we'll postpone it," she said, stroking my hand.  
I couldn't help it. My lip trembled and my eyes filled with tears. As she always seemed to have an instinct to do so, she pulled me close to her just as I started to cry.   
"It's just...it's been so bad...and I had to...I had to talk about Louis and it still hurts really bad...and then I had a panic attack yesterday...s' why I have this cut on my forehead, but it's...it's just all so much and you're still so good to me even though I fucked up my life and...," I sobbed.  
I heard Felix make a little, helpless noise from his perch on his bed. He was always the one to comfort me and it was probably strange to have someone else in his place.   
"You didn't do anything wrong, love. You aren't in a good place, but you're working so hard to get better and I'm so proud of you for that. I'm your mother and I love you with all my heart. Of course I'd push back a silly wedding for you. All that matters is that you're there. Sh, it's okay," she cooed.   
"It's not silly! It's all my fault! You could have gotten married earlier!" I wailed.   
"I wouldn't have wanted to get married earlier. There's still a lot to be done to prepare. I'm serious, Harry, nothing is your fault," she said sternly.   
I nodded and continued to sob in her arms. She didn't questions anything as I choked out how I talked about Louis to Aysiah, and if she tensed a bit when I told her about my panic attack, then neither of us mentioned it.  
I straightened up and looked at her.  
"I'm sorry, mum. You come here to talk to me, but I end up crying most of the time," I sighed, sniffing.   
"I don't mind. Whatever helps you get better, even if that means you need to throw a tantrum, complete with stomping your feet and pouting," she said.  
I laughed softly.  
"Harry threw the worst tantrums when he was a kid," she explained to Felix.   
"You'll have to reenact one," he said to me.   
"Look, I should get going. The boys are waiting," my mum said.  
"Can't you just stay the whole time? It's so much easier with you," I sighed.  
She frowned.  
"Honey, if you're really that uncomfortable with them coming to visit you, then you shouldn't make yourself. But I think that it is for the better," she said.  
"I know. I just...everything hurts," I said weakly.   
She pulled me in to a tight hug and I squeezed my eyes shut. I took in her comforting presence and couldn't help but cling to her when she tried to move away.  
"I'll see you soon, love, alight?" she murmured, "I love you so much, Harry. You're so strong."  
I wanted to tell her how weak I felt. I wanted to ask her how she couldn't see how fat I was. I wanted to throw myself on the ground and scream until she promised to stay with me and keep me safe from everything that hurt.   
Instead, I clung to her desperately.  
"Please don't go," I whispered.   
"I have to, darling. You're friends want to see you too," she said, pulling me off of her.  
I always had trouble letting her go after every visit. She was my mum; she knew me better than I knew myself, and she knew how to make me feel a little better.   
"Bye," I mumbled, scratching my wrist.  
She noticed and frowned.   
"I'll see you next week. Bye, sweetheart. I'll see you, Felix," she called as she exited.  
I retreated to the chair and pulled my legs to my chest, resting my forehead on my knees.  
"You okay?" Felix asked softly.  
"I haven't been okay for a really long time," I replied.   
The door opened and I knew without looking that it was Liam. He always came in first.   
Liam always talked about what was going on outside of rehab, carefully leaving Louis out.   
Zayn was different. The first time he had come to see me, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me carefully.   
"I'm not going to make you talk. I'll wait," he had said.  
After that, he had never said a word. We stayed silent together as he waited for me to speak.  
Niall was different too. The first time he had walked in, he had immediatly burst into tears, sitting down and sobbing the entire time.  
I had felt guilty for ignoring him, but I knew that I wasn't ready to talk to him.   
Niall always spoke in a tiny, almost scared voice, begging me to be okay. Niall wasn't the innocent, sensitive person that our fans thought he was, but he always took on that personality when he saw me.   
"Hi, Liam," Felix said cheerfully.  
"Hello. Hi, Harry," Liam said.  
He sat next to me and I studied him out of the corner of my eye.   
He looked absolutely exhausted, just like he always did.   
"Harry had a bit of an episode yesterday," Felix explained, trading beds to sit next to Liam.  
"Why? What happened? Is he okay?" Liam asked, immediatly concerned.  
Because I didn't talk to them, Felix took the liberty of filling the lads in on what went on throughout the week.  
"He got worked up over something and locked himself in the bathroom. He had a panic attack and I couldn't get in to help him, so he passed out. He's okay now, though, right, popstar?" Felix said.  
I didn't answer. I stared straight ahead and hugged my legs a little more tightly.   
"What happened to his forehead?" Liam asked.   
His voice sounded strained. I knew Liam well enough to know how difficult it was for him to maintain a stable attitude and not break down.   
"He hit it off the sink or the counter when he passed out, I think. He doesn't really remember, which is natural. He couldn't breath and he was panicked and disoriented," Felix explained.   
Liam touched the raised bumps of the stitches on my forehead and I tried not to flinch.   
I hated how they talked about me like I wasn't there and Felix knew that, but we both knew that I brought it on to myself. I couldn't really do anything about it if I wouldn't speak.   
"Oh," Liam said quietly, "Anything else?"   
I cringed. It sounded like he was there just to collect information on me, even though I knew that wasn't true.   
"He talked about a certain someone during one of his sessions," Felix reported, sounding vaguely pleased.   
"Really? What'd he say?" Liam asked, his attitude changing drastically.   
He sounded excited. I wanted to curl into a ball, cover my ears, and scream as loudly as I could. I didn't want to hear about what I already knew.   
So what if I talked about Louis? It was hard, yes, but they made it seemed like I won a fucking medal or something.   
I clenched my jaw. Felix noticed and put a hand on me, his fingers massaging my shoulder.   
"I don't know. He never told me. I just know that it made him really upset," he replied simply.  
"Oh," Liam said, sounding disappointed.   
There was an awkward lapse of silence. I bit my cheek to keep from screaming just to fill in the quietness.  
"He...has he ever talked about Louis to you?" Liam asked quietly.  
Felix's fingers dug into my shoulder as I tensed up.   
"No, not really. He's not comfortable with it. I don't know for sure why, but it's just something that he doesn't want to talk about yet," he said.  
His fingers came up to stroke the hair on the back of my neck.   
"I just feel so bad for Lou," Liam murmured, "He's ruining himself over this."  
My muscles were so tight that I wondered if they would snap. Felix noticed.  
"We shouldn't talk about this anymore," he said softly, his tone warning.  
I heard Liam sigh heavily.   
"It's a lot of stress for everyone. I just don't want anyone else to snap," he mused.   
"You guys are strong," Felix said, "It'll be fine."  
"You only know four of us. It's the fifth one that I'm worried about," Liam replied.  
I couldn't take them talking about Louis. I hated that it was my fault that he was hurting so much. I stood up, knocking the chair over, and stormed into the bathroom. Liam jumped, surprised that I had moved, as I was usually so still and silent.   
"Liam," Felix hissed, "You know that you aren't supposed to talk about him!"   
Liam replied, but I couldn't hear him clearly. A few moments passed before the door opened.   
I was sitting with my back against the sink counter. I wiped at my eyes furiously, trying not to cry.   
"Hey," Felix said quietly, sitting next to me, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let Liam talk about him."  
I laid my head on his shoulder.  
"Where is he? Liam?" I asked.  
"He left. Do you want to see Zayn and Niall?" he asked.  
"No. But I should," I sighed.  
Felix smiled at me and I smiled back, tilting my head on his shoulder so that I could see his eyes.  
I stood up and pulled him up as well. I exited the bathroom and slumped down into the chair.   
Zayn's visit passed in a blur. He chatted idly to Felix, but they didn't talk about me like Liam had. When Niall came in, he sat on the floor and put his head on my knee. He looked up at me with wide, blue eyes.   
"I miss you a lot," he said softly.  
The combination of him talking quietly and his accent made it hard to understand him.   
"I mean, I know that we see you every week, but it's not the same. I'm so used to seeing you practically every day and it's really weird without you. Nothing's right anymore, but I suppose it hasn't been for a while," he mused.   
He tugged his fingers through his hair. His blonde hair was nearly grown out, his natural brown taking over. I wanted to ask if he was going to get it redone, but I remembered that that involved talking.   
"We get all of these questions about you and none of us like answering them, especially...um, well, none of us like answering them," Niall spluttered.   
I knew that he had been about to say before he had caught himself. It was fairly obvious from the way his face had turned bright red.   
"I wish you could come home already. I know that you're getting help here, but fuck, I'm selfish and I want you home," he complained.   
Niall always made me feel so guilty. More often than not, I'd end up bawling into Felix's shirt after Niall left.   
"I know that we've always said that we aren't One Direction without one of us being there, and it's so true. We just aren't us without you, Harry. Zayn actually got up early yesterday! And I haven't eaten since I woke up! And Liam...well, he's still bossing us around, but even that isn't as bad as it usually is. We're not the same without you," he sighed, rubbing his eye on my knee.  
I fought the urge to look down at him. I knew that I'd meet his eyes and that the innocence and fear in them would break me.   
"I don't like this. I wanna go back to how we were before," he whispered, his voice shaking.  
I knew without looking that his mouth was fixed in a pout as he tried not to cry.   
He wrapped his arms around my legs and held on to me tightly.   
"I'm scared and I'm worried and I'm angry that this happened to you and I'm really tired, not as much as Louis, he doesn't sleep at all, but..."  
He kept babbling, not noticing what he had said. It happened from time to time. Liam or Niall would be talking about the rest of the band and they would accidentally mention Louis. They were usually quick to apologize though.   
I could feel Felix watching me from his bed. He had heard what Niall had let slip.   
I tuned out for the rest of Niall's visit. He finally stood up, wiped away tears that I hadn't notice him cry, and gave me a long hug that wasn't returned.   
He left and the door clicked shut behind him.  
"My stomach hurts," I said quietly, climbing into my bed and pulling the covers over my head.  
I felt Felix lay down next to me and he slipped underneath the duvet with me.   
I looked at him, the light dimmed from the duvet over our heads.   
"Your stomach doesn't hurt. Your heart does," he corrected quietly, reaching out to stroke my cheek.   
I shut my eyes and sighed at the touch.   
"Why did this have to happen to me? Why can't I love somebody who loves me back?" I mumbled, wriggling closer to him.   
I buried my face in his chest, close enough so that I could hear his heart beating.   
"I love you," he said softly.  
"Not that kind of love, Felix," I snapped, then immediatly felt bad, "Sorry."   
"It's fine," he said dismissively.   
"I change my mind. I don't want to love someone else like I love Louis. I just want him to love me like I love him," I muttered.   
He hummed in response. We lay together for a while until it started to get hot under the duvet.  
I shoved it down by our feet and then returned to my spot in his arms.  
"Why is it always you that comforts me? How come I never see you like this?" I asked.  
"Someone's gotta stay strong," he replied, "Besides, I've been here for a while. I got all of my mental breakdowns out before you got here."  
"But don't you still want drugs? You have to talk me out of it when I go crazy wanting to cut. Shouldn't you have moments like that?" I protested.  
"My body wants them, but my mind knows that I really don't. You still want to cut in your mind, not just your body. It makes a difference. Every time I want something, I just think of my sister and how upset she would be if I had to stay longer," he explained.   
"I've never met her. Or your parents. Do they even visit?" I asked.   
"Not often. They moved to California right after I came here. We'd been planning it; it's a good place for my sister, but I stayed here and they left. They can't visit often. They're coming next week though, and I want you to meet them," he said.   
He sounded so eager.  
"You love your sister so much," I murmured.   
"Yeah," he agreed.   
"Do you love me?" I asked.  
I knew that he had already said it just moments prior, but I really needed to hear it.   
"I love you a lot, Harry," he replied solemnly.   
That was enough for me. 

 

Louis's POV

I supposed that I couldn't really put off seeing Eleanor any longer.  
I called her, half-heartedly ran through apologies and excuses for not calling sooner, and promised that I would drive to Manchester so that we could do something together.   
When I woke up the next morning, hungover from drinking part of a bottle of vodka I'd found in Harry's kitchen, I regretted making the promise to her.   
But still, I took paracetamol to tame my headache and I shuffled out into my car. I drove as slowly as I dared. For the first time, I really didn't want to see Eleanor. I was madly in love with her from the moment she'd introduced herself to me, and as I drove, I realized that I'd always looked forwards to seeing her.   
It was a fairly long drive, about four hours from London to Manchester, but it went painfully quickly, no matter how slow I drove.  
I pulled up to the small house that she shared with a few of her friends and I trudged up to the door.   
She answered almost immediatly, a bright smile lighting up her face.   
"Louis!" she exclaimed, pulling me in for a long kiss.   
"Hi," I said, feigning cheerfulness.   
"The other girls are all out. I asked for some privacy," she said, winking suggestively as she tugged me inside.   
"Privacy sounds wonderful to me," I replied.  
"I suppose a little bit of quiet time is a treat when you're famous," Eleanor said sympathetically.   
She led me to a sofa and sat down next to me, throwing her legs over my lap.   
"How are you doing, Lou?" she asked.  
Her voice was so soft and gentle that I had to look away from her concerned gaze in order to blink away tears.   
"I'm surviving," I muttered, "That's a positive."   
"I'm worried about you, you know," she said, stroking my arm, "You look so tired."  
"Everyone is!" I groaned, "But it doesn't help."  
I really was exhausted. I'd debated about pulling over on the drive up to take a small nap so that I wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel.  
I couldn't take the medicine that Liam had given me, liquid or not. I just couldn't choke it down. Instead, I poured a small bit down the drain each day in order to make it appear that I was using it.  
Unfortunately, I still wasn't sleeping and I was still extremely tired all the time.   
Eleanor frowned.  
"What would help, then?" she asked.   
"I just want to forget about everything. Just for a little while," I said wistfully.  
She tilted her head and smirked playfully.   
"Maybe I can help with that," she murmured, swinging one leg over my lap to straddle me.   
"Can you?" I asked, kissing her.   
"Oh, I know I can," she purred.   
And that was the last of our talking.   
Several hours later, I managed to get her to come with me to a club. Sure, the sex had taken my mine off of things, but I really just wanted to forget.   
I was drinking nearly every night. It was usually just me in Harry's room, cringing as I swallowed gulps of whatever alcohol I could dig up.   
It wasn't healthy and I knew it, but it helped me to forget and that was all I cared about.   
Eleanor had roped some friends of hers into coming along and I staggered back to our table with several drinks in my hands.  
I set them down and allowed the others to locate their respective drinks. For me, I had asked the bartender to give me whatever would get me pissed the fastest.  
I clinked my glass against Eleanor's and took a large swallow, wincing as it burned my throat on the way down.  
"Thanks for agreeing to come," I yelled to her over the music.   
I set my empty glass down, well aware that I probably should not have finished that quickly.   
I got up to get another drink and grinned as I felt the burning in my stomach spread to my veins.   
When I was making my way back, Eleanor got up and stopped me.  
"Let's dance!" she suggested.   
We went to the crowed dance floor. She waited for me to finish my drink, bobbing to the beat of the song and trailing her hands up and down my chest.   
I drained the glass and set it down somewhere before pulling her further into the crowd.   
We danced together, quite filthily actually, for several songs. It was hot in the throng of bodies and sweat dripped down my back. I loved it.   
The flashing lights and the loud music blocked out my worries and thoughts of Harry. The comfortable buzz I had felt good.   
I slipped trough the people on the dance floor to get another drink. I didn't want just a mild buzz, I wanted to be completely pissed.   
I had half of a drink down before Eleanor caught up to me, new bangs sticking to her forehead.   
"Can I try?" she asked.  
I offered her the glass. She took a sip and visibly shuddered as she swallowed.  
"What the hell around you drinking? It tastes like acid!" she complained, washing out the taste with some fruity shit she held in her hand.  
"It's good, innit?" I said brightly, grinning at her.   
We hung out at the bar for a while. I wondered if she noticed how much I was drinking. If she did, she didn't say anything.   
When we went to go back and dance, I hopped off the stool I sat on. I swayed slightly, not anticipating how drunk I'd actually gotten.   
We joined the mass of bodies that jumped and grinded to the song playing and I got lost in the lights and the music.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry's POV

Felix was excited. He hadn't seen his family in ages. 

"What's your sister's name, Felix? I never asked you," I asked, mostly to give him something else to think about. 

He was pacing and fidgeting restlessly and it was starting to irritate me. 

"Addison. We call her Addy though," he said. 

He smiled when he said her name. 

"I thought your parents didn't want you to see her until after you left here," I said. 

"I've been begging them to bring her. I tried to convince them that I was clean enough to see her, and I think they believed me," he replied, sounding rather proud of himself. 

I was about to say something else when the door opened. A man pushed in a wheel chair and a women slipped in beside him. 

There was a girl in the wheelchair. Her head lolled slightly to the side and her eyes were unfocused and her mouth hung open. 

Felix grinned so brightly that I could have sworn rainbows shot from his teeth. 

"Hey Mum and Dad! Hi, Addy!" he cooed. 

He knelt down by the girl. She gave a little shriek and bounced in her chair. 

"Guess what, Addy? Look who my roommate is! Harry Styles, from One Direction! You still like them, right?" he asked. 

Felix was absolutely glowing. 

He talked about Addison all the time, but he'd never told me that she had a metal disorder. 

"Hi," I said, waving towards her. 

She shrieked again and her eyes rolled in my general direction. 

"It's great to meet you," I added, then I looked at their parents, "You guys as well." 

I crossed the room to shake their hands. 

"We've heard a ton about you," Felix's dad said, "Don't worry, it's all been good things." 

"He talks about you all the time," I replied, gesturing towards Felix, "I've never seen him so excited before." 

"He loves his sister. I've never really seen a connection like theirs. Let me tell you, Addy is never happier than when she is with him," his mum said. 

I sat down on the bed and watched Felix talk to Addy. 

It didn't matter to him that she couldn't speak to him like a normal person, but he seemed to understand her anyways. 

He loved her so much even though there were so many complications in their relationship. 

It was actually incredibly touching. I wasn't an extremely sappy person, the lads would probably disagree with that, but I had to bite my lip to keep from crying. 

Rehab messed with my emotions. I felt like I was PMSing, in all honesty. 

I talked with his parents for a bit while Felix visited with Addy. He talked to them as well, but the second Addy so much as moved, his attention was relocated. 

I kept my wrist turned inwards the entire time. I felt extremely self-conscious of the scars that marred my wrist. I didn't want Felix's parents to think badly of me. I wasn't sure if Addy could really see, and I really didn't want her to see them. It was bad enough that I was quite noticeably underweight. 

"Felix, we should get going," his mum said finally. 

His happy expression wavered slightly and he sighed. 

"Just a while longer till I can come to California, yeah?" he said. 

His parents exchanged a look. 

"We're thinking about moving back here, actually. We've found a very highly recommended therapist for you," she said. 

"There's a lot of people out in California that we think could influence you negatively as well," his dad added. 

"All the people that smoke weed, right? There's people like that everywhere! I'll be fine, I have no inclination to ever go near drugs again! Why can't you just do what's best for Addy?" Felix snapped. 

"She was doing well here, you know that. It isn't a big deal for us to move back. We want what's best for you," his mother tried. 

"And you don't care what's best for her!" Felix yelled, "You know that she doesn't get what she needs in London! The people at her school pick on her and you can hardly take your heads out of your arses to notice!" 

"That's quite enough, Felix. You're upsetting your sister," his father said roughly. 

Addy was fidgeting in her wheel chair and flapping her hands. 

"Oh, but it's alright when you upset her, isn't it? Just get out. I'll see you when I come home, wherever the hell that ends up being," Felix growled. 

He stormed off into our bathroom and slammed the door. 

Addy gave a shriek of unhappiness. 

"I'm sorry you had to witness that, Harry. It was very nice meeting you," his mother sighed. 

"Yeah, it was nice to meet you too," I said. 

I knelt down next to Addy. 

"Hey," I murmured, "Don't tell anyone, but when I get out of here, I'll let you backstage to one of our concerts." 

She flapped her hands excitedly and gave what look like a smile. 

I patted her shoulder. 

"I'll see you soon," I said to her. 

Her parents smiled at me and left. 

I hurried over to the bathroom. 

"Felix?" I called, "They're gone." 

"Leave me alone, Harry. I'm fine," he snarled from inside. 

I could hear the breaking in his voice and I knew that he wasn't fine. 

"No you aren't, Felix. Come on. Let me take care of you for once," I murmured. 

There was a hesitant silence before the door clicked open and he stepped out. 

His eyes were rimmed red and his cheeks were flushed angrily. 

"I just really fucking hate that they don't care about her just because she has autism," he spat, beginning to pace. 

I pulled him towards me and tugged him over to his bed. 

For once, I let him hide himself in my shirt instead of the other way around. 

"They wanted to give her up for adoption when they found out she had autism after she was born," he mumbled, "But my little eight-year-old self wouldn't let them. I still don't know how I convinced them." 

I didn't say anything. I knew that he just needed to talk. 

"They've always treated her differently, but not in a good way. Like, instead of trying to accommodate for her condition, they just sort of threw her chair and therepy at her and hoped for the best. I always ended up having to take care of her. I knew that she couldn't eat like we do, so I had to make her separate meals when my mum tried to force her to eat what we did. I had to help her bathe herself when my parents didn't. Honestly, I'm more of her fucking parent than those two have ever been," he ranted, "She got picked on at school. She'd come home with scratches and bruises and she didn't even need to tell me where they came from because I just knew. California is a good place for her; she needs a change and my parents don't give a damn! They just care that their son doesn't overdose, so they threw me in here!" 

I stroked his hair comfortingly. 

"I'm sorry," I sighed, not knowing what else to say. 

"No. It's really...it's not bad. I'm just worried about what's going to happen whenever I leave the house, you know? Who's going to take care of her like I do? I thought about running away a lot when I was younger, just me and Addy. But then reality kicked in and I realized that she needs her medication and therapy and so on and so forth," he mumbled. 

"You're amazing doing what you're doing, Felix, really. I never knew she had autism, and when I saw you with her...I was kind of jealous, in all honesty. I have people that I love who love me like that, but you two are just so...inspirational, for lack of a better word," I said. 

"Thanks, popstar," he mumbled, shifting so that his face was pressed into my neck. 

There was a few moments of peaceful silence, and then there was a sharp stinging on my neck. 

I yelped. 

"Did you just bite me?" I asked incredulously, wiping spit off of the side of my neck. 

He grinned and nodded. 

"I gave you a nice little mark, too," he laughed. 

I growled playfully and tackled him, pushing him into the mattress. 

And just like that, he was alright again.

 

Louis's POV

I woke up with a splitting headache and an extremely dry mouth. I rolled over in Eleanor's bed, which was not meant for two people, and shuffled to her bathroom to get a drink and something to help my headache. 

She was already awake, sitting on a sofa and reading. She looked up when I walked into the room and she winced sympathetically. 

"How're you feeling, babe?" she asked. 

I mumbled something that even I couldn't understand and flopped onto the couch, hiding my face in her lap. 

I was kind of used to feeling like absolute shit all of the time. I got drunk nearly every night, which meant that I had to deal with a hangover nearly every morning. 

That didn't mean that hangovers weren't still absolutely miserable though. 

She ran her fingers through my hair and I sighed. 

"You up for doing anything today?" Eleanor asked. 

I rolled over and looked her in the eyes. 

"I need to head back. We've got some meeting or something later tonight," I muttered. 

We both knew that it was a lie, but she didn't call me out on it. I saw how her eyebrows furrowed and how her mouth turned down into a frown. 

"I love you," she said softly as I grabbed my jacket. 

"I love you too, El," I replied. 

I ran my fingers over the ring on her hand. 

"Do you wear this when you go out?" I asked. 

"Yeah. But on a different finger. I know that you don't want to make it public yet, but I like knowing that I really am engaged to you, so I keep it on," she said, smiling. 

I smiled back, but my stomach twisted at the word 'engaged'. Being engaged had nearly taken Harry's life and destroyed mine. I hardly considered it a good thing. 

"I like knowing that I'm engaged to you too," I said, and I heard the uncertainty in my voice. 

I hoped that she didn't. 

"Louis...I know that this...this thing with Harry isn't easy for you, and I understand. But I'm so worried about you," she sighed, "You look so tired, babe. And you've lost a tiny bit of weight, haven't you?" 

I bit my lip and avoided her look. The boys lectured me, my mum lectured me, the fans tweeted about me, but hearing Eleanor was different. I knew that she completely understood me and how I thought, which was why she was so perfect for me. I loved her a lot and I hated knowing that I had her worried. 

"I'll be fine," I assured her. 

We both heard how doubtful I sounded. 

"I love you, okay?" she murmured as I pulled her in for a hug. 

"Yeah, I know. I love you too," I replied. 

With a small, tight smile and a wave, I drove away. 

Once I reached London, I decided that I really didn't want to go to Harry's flat. I walked around the city. I wasn't paying attention to what went on around me; I was lost in my own thoughts. 

I knew that I wasn't really supposed to go out without some form of security, but I couldn't be bothered to call. I could only hope that if someone recognized me, they would realize that I wasn't in the mood to talk. 

I walked past the London Eye and watched the throng of people in line for it. Most of them I could tell were tourists. 

I remembered when Harry and I had first bought our flat together. He'd been so excited. We'd walked around London the day after, and he had insisted on being complete tourists even though we had both been there before. 

He'd dragged me in like for the London Eye. I'd snapped at him multiple times for making me wait in the miserably long line, but in typical Harry fashion, he'd grinned at me and cracked some terrible joke to make me laugh. 

When we finally got on, I had thought that he was about to wet himself from excitement. 

He'd grabbed my hand excitedly and pulled me close as we had started to move. 

We'd stopped at the top and he had been so happy. He'd darted around, pointing out different places that we had been that day. 

"That's our flat, Lou, right?" he'd squealed. 

It turned out that he hadn't even been looking in the right direction, but I remembered how his eyes glittered with happiness. 

Had he been in love with me then? When he had grabbed my hand when we started moving, had it meant something more to him? 

I realized suddenly that I had started to cry. I bit my lip and blinked rapidly as I struggled to stop. 

I turned and ran, bumping into people as I fled from my memories. 

I ran until I physically couldn't anymore. My legs screamed at me to stop and my lungs burned. I collapsed against the side of a building, giving into my tears. 

I had no idea where I was. I couldn't even see through the film of tears. Between the ache in my chest from running and my sobs, I could hardly breath. 

I picked up my phone and dialed Liam. 

"Louis?" he answered. 

He knew that I had been with Eleanor. He probably thought that I still was. 

"Li? I don't know where I am," I whimpered, "I was at the Eye, you know, and then I just remembered how happy Harry was when we were there and I had to leave and I ran and I can't fucking see any bloody street signs and I don't know where I am!" 

I heard him sigh heavily. He sounded exasperated. 

"Lou, just find a taxi or something," he advised wearily. 

"When did he start loving me, Li?" I asked, standing shakily, my muscles still burning, and looking for a taxi. 

I had been dying to know when Harry had started to feel differently about me. Had he always? Or had it been recent? I didn't know and I needed to know. 

"I'm not sure, Lou. Maybe a little over a year? It started before Eleanor, but not much before," Liam replied, "Listen, I'm kind of on a date with Dani and there's only so long that I can pretend to be in the loo." 

That explained why he sounded so rushed. 

"Okay. Thanks, Li," I sniffled. 

I saw a taxi and I flagged it down. I instructed the driver to drive me back to Harry's. When we reached his flat, I payed the driver and went inside. 

I leaned against the door and sighed deeply. 

I went to the toilet and splashed water on my face. The cold made my eyes burn. They were sore from exhaustion and crying. 

I wiped my face off and started to leave when I noticed my razor on the sink. 

I had yet to bring my electric one over from my own place, so I had a disposable one for the time being. 

I picked it up and examined it. What did Harry think when he saw a razor? Did he immediately crave hurting himself? Or did he just look at it for what it was, a razor? 

I licked my lips and my hands started to sweat. 

I wanted to know what Harry saw in hurting himself. How did he see any good in it? I didn't understand how he used pain to get relief from pain. 

But I wanted to understand. 

Shakily, I broke the plastic casing on the razor and picked out one of the blades. I winced when it nicked one of my fingers. 

I studied it for what felt like hours. This little object was so precious to Harry. 

I knew that what I was doing was extremely reckless and stupid. I was infamous for my idiotic ideas, but what I was doing had to be by far the worst one. 

The majority of my mind screamed at me to not do it, but I was desperate. I needed answers that Harry refused to give me, so I was taking matters into my own hands. 

I pressed the tiny blade the the inside of my wrist. My hands were shaking so badly that I had to press hard to keep the razor from moving. 

I shut my eyes tightly and jerked it across my wrist. I hissed at the sudden, sharp pain and my eyes snapped open. 

I dropped the blade and grabbed my throbbing wrist. 

How the hell did Harry like hurting himself? I felt no relief, just intense, sharp pain. 

Blood bubbled up from the cut and started to drip down my arm. 

I frantically wiped it away, adrenaline and horror rushing through me. 

What had I been thinking? I was no closer to understanding Harry and I had a bloody cut on my wrist. I knew that if one of the boys saw it, they'd probably send me off to wherever Harry was. 

That actually wasn't a bad plan. 

I shook my head violently and put a bandage on my cut. I wandered into Harry's kitchen. 

Almost on instinct, I stretched to reach a cabinet and pulled out a bottle. I read the label, it turned out to be liquor, and I nodded in approval. It would do. 

I felt absolutely horrid and I didn't bother with a glass, so I uncapped it and took a large swallow straight from the bottle. 

It burned deliciously on the way down and I shuddered from the bitter taste. 

I made my way to Harry's room and I laid down on the bed, curling around the bottle. I closed my eyes, periodically taking a drink. The alcohol was calming. I felt light-headed and weighed-down at the same time. It was like I was anchored to his bed and I couldn't try and move even if I wanted to. 

I wondered if I really didn't know why Harry hurt himself. What I was doing was similar to his cutting; it was a way to forget everything and focus on one thing. For me, it was alcohol, for Harry, it was essentially destroying his body to forget about me. 

Did he do it to forget about me? Did he want to forget about me? 

My head spun and I suddenly really needed to throw up. 

I leaned over the bed and retched into a very conveniently placed bin that Harry kept next to his bed. 

I hadn't eaten much, so it was just bile and liquor. It burned as I vomited and my eyes watered painfully. 

When I figured that I was done, I laid back on the bed and breathed in deeply. 

Then I took another drink of liquor to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth.

 

Liam's POV

I let myself into Harry's flat. I needed to know if Louis had gotten back after his small breakdown at the London Eye. 

"Lou?" I called. 

There wasn't an answer. I figured he was either not back yet or he was sleeping. I sincerely hoped that he was asleep; we all knew that he really wasn't taking the sleeping medication. 

I nudged the door to Harry's room open slightly. 

The first thing that hit me was the strong scent of alcohol. The second was the strong scent of vomit. 

Louis was curled up on Harry's bed, practically clutching a bottle of something to his chest. 

He had evidentially made himself sick, as there was vomit in the bin and I wrinkled my nose as I saw a bit on his shirt. 

"Oh, Lou," I murmured. 

I took the bin out of the room and made a mental note to take care of it eventually. I pulled the bottle- it turned out to be liquor- from Louis's grasp and took it into the kitchen. The cap was still sitting on the counter, so I closed the bottle and put it back in a cabinet. 

I wondered how drunk Louis was and if it would be a struggle to wake him up. 

I went back to where he was sleeping- or passed out, I really wasn't sure. 

I shook his shoulder gently. He gave a muffled groan and felt around the bed. 

"The fuck?" he mumbled. 

He opened his eyes and sighed when he saw me and not the bottle of liquor. 

"Lou, you've got vomit on your shirt. Come on, at least get changed," I said. 

"Go away, Liam," he grumbled, but he sat up. 

He scrubbed at his eyes with his hands and breathed out heavily. 

"Where'd you put it?" he asked wearily. 

I knew that he was talking about the liquor. 

"Away. I know you went out last night, Lou; the pictures were on Twitter. You don't need to drink any more," I chastised gently. 

I opened one of Harry's drawers and handed him a shirt that I found. 

He stared at it for a long time and I realized that it was Harry's 'Love is Equal' shirt. 

"It's my way of dealing with things, Li. There's nothing wrong with getting drunk sometimes, alright?" he snapped. 

He stood and shoved me away from the drawer. He pulled out a different shirt and stuffed the one I had given into the drawer. 

He was moving slightly unsteadily and I figured that he hadn't thrown up everything that he had drunk. 

"I'm just worried, Lou. You're more hungover than not, and if you aren't, you're drunk anyways," I sighed. 

"I'm fine, why can't you believe me? You just can't understand, Liam. You don't know how I feel," Louis barked. 

I cringed as I remembered having conversations with Harry that were eerily similar to the one I was having with Louis. 

"I just don't want you to end up depending on drinking like Harry depended on self-harm," I said gently. 

Louis went ridged and his eyes snapped up to meet mine. 

"Don't you ever compare what he did to himself to me!" he snarled. 

He stormed out of the room, jerking his dirty shirt over his head and letting it fall to the floor. A few moments later, I heard a door slam and the shower start running. 

I picked the shirt up and took it to Harry's washing machine. I ended up collecting what I figured were dirty clothes from around the flat and washing them. 

I wondered if it wasn't a bad idea to take all of the alcohol out of the flat. But I knew that Louis wasn't stupid; he knew when enough was enough. I decided to go against my better judgement and trust him to be responsible. 

Then I remembered that 'Louis' and 'responsible' didn't really go together. 

The shower stopped running and Louis shuffled out a couple of minutes later. He eyed me warily as he tugged on a clean shirt and track pants. 

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, "I'm just worried about you." 

"You don't need to worry about me," he said, but his tone had less bite to it. 

He seemed slightly more sober and as he walked past me and his cold skin brushed me, I realized that he had taken a freezing cold shower. 

He reached up to fluff out his wet hair and I froze. 

I grabbed his wrist and flipped it up. There was a cut about halfway across his wrist. It was thin and straight and slightly tinted a reddish-pink color. It looked exactly like Harry's had. 

"What the fuck is that?" I demanded, clenching down on his wrist so that he couldn't get away. 

"I dunno. I probably scratched it when I was with Eleanor last night," he replied. 

He didn't give any hint that he was lying, but I knew that Louis was a good actor. I knew him well enough that I knew what to look for if he was lying. 

"Louis, look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't do that to yourself," I demanded rather shakily. 

He stared directly into my eyes. 

"I dunno. Maybe I scratched myself accidentally! I don't know were the fuck it came from, but it's been there since this morning," he spat. 

There. A flash of panic clouded his eyes for the briefest of seconds. He was lying, I knew it. 

"What the fuck, Louis? Don't you dare get made at me for saying your drinking is like Harry's cutting when you're doing it too! Jesus, Louis! How fucking stupid are you?" I yelled. 

I couldn't believe that he would do something like cut himself when he was being effected first hand by somebody else who did it. 

I was so incredibly furious with him. 

He jerked out of my grip, his eyes blazing. 

"The question is, how stupid are you, Liam, for thinking that I'd fucking cut myself? I can't believe you would think that I'd do that! You know what, just get the fuck out!" he screamed. 

His face was red and his eyes were dark with anger. 

I began to question my safety with him, so I backed up. 

"I know that you're lying, Louis," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. 

I exited the flat quickly, ignoring him yelling at me as I slammed the door. I dialed Zayn. 

"What's up, Li?" he answered. 

"Louis cut himself," I whispered. 

There was a whole lot of swearing on his end.


	14. Chapter 14

Liam's POV

Louis sat on the sofa in front of us, his eyes bloodshot from what I could only assume was yet another hangover.   
It had only been a day since I'd seen the cut on his wrist. Zayn and Niall stood next to me as all three of us studied Louis.  
He sat on the sofa with his arms crossed and a very nasty glare on his face. He looked so exhausted and his hair was a bit greasy.   
I wasn't sure whether the trauma of Harry's suicide attempt or the fact that Harry was essentially ignoring him played the larger factor in how Louis was acting. I just knew that he wasn't dealing with either well and I was beyond terrified that he would get even worse.   
"Lou," Niall said quietly.  
"Look. I already know why you guys are sitting me down like a fucking toddler. You don't need to sugar-cost it. I'm hurt and I'm not bouncing back like you lads expect me to. Fucking deal with it, alright? It's different for me than it is for you," Louis snarled.   
His eyes sparked dangerously. I knew that he was already irritated and that it could only go downhill.   
"Louis, we're not expecting you to be alright!" Zayn sighed, "We're hurting too, and we know that it's got to be different for you, we really do. But you're not dealing with it correctly. All this drinking isn't good for you."   
Zayn edged carefully around Louis's cut. It would be brought up later, but we were trying to keep Louis relatively calm for as long as possibly.  
"What is this, a fucking intervention? It's drinking, we all do it! I'm not a bloody kid, I know when enough's enough!" Louis spat.   
"But every night, Louis? How do we know that one night you won't know when it's enough and we'll find you dead from alcohol poisoning?" Zayn choked.   
Louis bristled and his hands curled into tight fists.  
"Because I'm not that bloody selfish. I know how it feels to almost lose somebody, we all do now, why the fuck would I make you know what it's like to really lose someone? I'm not Harry; I'm not quite that fucking selfish," he hissed, and his eyes clouded.  
He was going into the mind space that he'd been in when he had known there was a chance that Harry was dead. The raw pain, confusion, and grief in his eyes stung me. I hated having to see him look like that.   
He rubbed his hands over his face with a long, shaky breath before he looked up, his eyes back to being dark with anger.   
"Louis, you know that we're just really worried about you. We know that you're hurting and we're worried about how you're trying to take away your hurt. Yeah, drinking is okay, but not every night. It can destroy your body," I said.   
"Why isn't Zayn sitting here with me, then? He's been smoking for forever and you've never done this stupid intercention bullshit with him! He's a fucking singer, for God's sake! He's got a better chance of ruining his body than I do!" Louis growled.  
It was a rather low blow and I saw Zayn flinch out of the corner of my eye.  
"C'mon, Zayn, lets battle our fucking 'addictions' together! We can be like each other's rock or some bullshit like that!" Louis added sarcastically.   
"That's enough, Louis," I interrupted, "Quit being a dick."  
Louis laughed harshly.   
"I'm a dick? You know who's the dick? Fucking Harry, that's who. He was so selfish and he tried to fucking kill himself when so many people depend on him, and now he's being a complete bastard and letting me sit here by myself all bloody day, going quite litterally insane, and wondering what the hell went wrong and how I could have helped!" Louis shouted.  
His voice broke on the last word and he snapped his mouth shut. His jaw clenched and he blinked rapidly, because God forbid Louis Tomlinson cry or even show weakness in front of other people. Unfortunately for his ego, he'd cried in front of us a lot in the past two months.   
Niall tried to pat his shoulder and Louis jerked away violently.   
"Don't think I don't know how you guys talk about me behind my back. You think I'm going to try and off myself like Harry did, yeah? Well, I'll tell you something. I'm not weak. I'm not selfish. I'm not a coward. I can deal with pain and hurt and confusion. I'm not Harry; we're different people, so quit getting us confused," Louis said, his voice a low, threatening growl.  
Niall shuffled uncomfortably next to Zayn. He hated confrontations and fighting.   
"We've got our reasons to be scared, Lou," he said pleadingly, "You cut yourself and-"  
"I didn't fucking cut myself!" Louis screamed.   
He stood abruptly and took a step so that he was standing extremely close to Niall. Louis's teeth were all but bared in a vicious snarl.  
"Do you seriously fucking think that I'd do something so fucking stupid? Something so disgusting?" he shrieked, his voice climbing higher and higher the more worked up he got, "I was at a fucking club; something probably scratched me! I think it's absolutely horrible for you to even think that I'd cut myself when I've seen how my best friend tried to kill himself with it! You're disgusting, Niall, you're all disgusting!"   
Louis all but vaulted over the sofa and a few moments later, we heard the cracking sound of him slamming the door to Harry's room.  
Niall was shaken up, his eyes welling with tears.   
"Thought he was going to hit me there for a moment," he said shakily, wiping at his eyes.   
"Well, that went well," Zayn sighed, sitting and taking Louis's place on the sofa.  
Niall sat next to him and I followed.   
"I think that he needs to talk to someone. You know, like a therapist. He's obviously got a lot of anger bottled up and I really don't want to be around when he blows up," Zayn continued.  
"You mean he can get worse than that?" Niall asked warily.   
"Do you remember how he reacted when we found Harry? He was screaming and crying and he couldn't even stand? He hit me for trying to take him away? I'm thinking he's eventually going to break down like that. He doesn't know how to deal with what happened and he can't take much more," Zayn said.  
Niall shuddered at the memory. I'd been trying to keep Harry alive at the time, but I'd heard Louis's horrified screaming quite clearly.   
"He's not going to want any help," I warned.   
"Too bad," Zayn said, shrugging.   
"Is he telling the truth about not cutting himself?" Niall asked carefully, "He seemed so offended and angry when I said that he had."   
"He's definitely lying," Zayn said, and I nodded in agreement.  
"I know what a scratch looks like. What's on his wrist is not an accidental scratch. It's completely straight across the veins and really, it looks exactly like Harry's. I just want to know why he'd do it. He was telling the truth about how he feels about cutting, and I just wish I could know what went through his mind when he did it," I mused.   
We jumped as a door slammed open and seconds later, Louis was stomping past us and towards the front door.   
"Where are you going?" I called.   
"Out," he spat, not bothering to turn around.  
"Be careful not to get scratched in any clubs!" Zayn said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.   
I was surprised that he'd said that. Zayn wasn't one for starting fights, but I assumed that he was still angry from the last one.  
Louis whirled around, a murderous expression on his face.   
He and Zayn glared at each other steadily.  
Louis gradually composed himself and his eyes turned harsh and cold. His mouth twisted into a sneer.  
"I'll be careful, mummy," he cooed, the sarcasm in his voice rivaling Zayn's.  
With that, Louis turned around and left, making sure to slam the door hard.   
"What the hell did you say that for, Zayn? Now he's even more pissed off!" Niall groaned.   
"'m sorry," Zayn sighed, "It's just bothering me how reckless he's getting. The fans are going to catch on to how much he's drinking soon, and they're going to see that cut."   
"He never goes out in the daylight for them to see it," I replied.   
They hummed in agreement.   
"We really need to get Harry to talk to him before Louis goes completely insane," Niall said.  
"Do you really think that's a good idea? Yeah, he wants to talk to Harry, but he's really, really angry still. The last thing that Harry needs is Louis screaming at him like he just did to us," I said.  
Niall looked a little dejected by that so I put my arm around him and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.   
"This whole thing really sucks," he complained, "All of it. From the way beginning when Harry fell in love with Louis."  
He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do you think Louis ever would have loved him too if Harry told him? Like before Eleanor?"   
"Maybe way back when even we questioned their relationship. I don't really know," I replied.   
"Do you think they have a chance now?" Niall asked, his voice so quiet that we had to strain to hear him.   
We stayed quiet, mulling the idea over in our minds.   
Zayn finally spoke up, "No. I really don't think so, not with Harry practically ruined and Louis on his way to being the same. He's in love with Eleanor too; we all know that. Whether or not they'll stay together, I really don't know. He's hardly even trying anymore. But no, I don't think that Louis and Harry have a chance together. There's just too much shit that's come between them. I'll be surprised if they can even be somewhat good of friends after this."   
Niall nodded, somewhat sadly. He just wanted everyone to be happy.   
"I think that it'll all end up alright, whatever that means for them. Harry's getting help and Louis is...well he's currently faced with a gigantic pile of shit that he's got to sort through, but he'll end up alright," I said, trying to make the conversation a bit lighter.   
"Ew. I wouldn't want to sort through a pile of shit," Niall joked, wrinkling his nose comically.   
We laughed at his attempt at humor.   
It was nice to laugh when we were used to yelling. 

 

Harry's POV

I was finally at what was apparently a 'healthy weight'. It had only taken two months and a lot of vomiting up food that I physically couldn't eat.  
I was still really skinny, or so everyone said. I personally thought that I looked chubby and I hated it.   
Apparently I was literally the exact weight of the lowest I could be without being underweight.   
Still, I was a healthy weight again, so I was allowed to work out.   
It wasn't really advised, since I was still really thin, but I wanted to.   
I was allowed to work out for a half hour every other day and there was a specific amount of calories I could burn before I had to stop.   
I thought it was stupid, but I went along with it.  
I was excited as Felix led me to the gym. It was a really nice place, actually. It had several of each machine there, weights, two punching bags, and other assorted equipment. There was a large pool as well.  
"So how did you work out before, popstar?" Felix asked, tossing his shirt off.   
He had a really nice chest, I noticed. I'd seen it before, but I could appreciate it more when seeing it as it flexed as he picked up a weight to study it.   
"I boxed a lot. Sometimes I ran and worked on machines, but I stopped caring eventually," I admitted.   
"So you wanna box?" Felix asked.   
"I guess," I said, shrugging.   
Felix tossed me tape so I could wrap my hands and he picked up the punching blocks that he would strap onto his hands for me to hit.  
"Go ahead, do your worst," he challanged, grinning cheekily.   
I swung forwards, falling back into boxing with ease. I had always liked the rhythm of it, the steady 'thwack' that my hands made.   
However, only a few minutes in, I had to stop. My muscles burned to the point that I could hardly lift them and I was heaving for air. Sweat ran down my face.  
"Holy shit, I'm seriously out of shape," I gasped.  
"Yeah, that usually happens when you don't eat for a while," Felix commented, adjusting the straps on his gear.   
Suddenly, I was really happy that I wasn't allowed to work out for more than a half hour.   
By the end of my time, I was literally on the floor in a pool of my own sweat.   
"I honestly don't think that I can walk," I coughed, opening my mouth for Felix to pour water into it.   
"I'll give you a ride," he snorted.  
He lifted me up easily and instructed me to jump on his back.   
I tried to jump and failed, but he hopped a bit so that I was pushed higher onto his back.  
He had already filled out a card that I had to keep track of how many calories I had burned. I had to eat my daily calorie requirement plus the ones that I had lost.   
I thought it was extremely stupid, seeing as I didn't want to gain any more weight, but like with everything else, I went along with it.   
We passed a few people that I had come to know in the past two months. There was Kelsey, she was there for a cocaine addiction, Brendon, who had been abused nearly his entire life and needed serious help recovering, Brandon, who was there for the physical therapy- he'd broken both hip bones and a leg in some accident-, and Tiana, who had severe bulimia.   
There were other people that I had met, but I mostly stayed close to Felix.   
"Lazy, Styles?" Brandon called as he struggled to limp along with the help of a therapist.   
"I got my ass kicked boxing," I replied, "I've got no muscle!"   
"Maybe you should be the one in physical therapy!" he joked.  
Brandon was great to be around. He was never anything but positive, even when he couldn't even crawl without being in severe pain.   
"They've let you start to work out?" Tiana chuckled as Felix and I walked past, "It seriously sucks for a while. You'll build the muscle back up eventually."   
I nodded at her and closed my eyes, resting my head against Felix's shoulder.  
When I opened them again, I was in bed and it was several hours later.  
I tried to sit up, but my muscles screamed in protest.   
I groaned and Felix laughed.  
"You think you're sore now? Wait 'till tomorrow when it really settles in. Matt just about died his first time working out, just like you. But he'd never had any muscle on him, even before the eating disorder," he said.   
I always wondered if talking about Matt hurt him like talking about Louis hurt me. As I had gotten to know Felix better, I noticed the subtle sadness in his voice when he brought up Matt.   
I'd talked to him about it before, but he'd given me some vague response about how talking about it made it easier to deal with.  
I obviously disagreed, seeing as I was running away from any sort of thought about Louis as quickly as possible.  
"You need to go eat, popstar, get some calories in you," he said.  
I made it off of the bed after five minutes, and my entire body felt like it was about to fail me.  
I cursed the day that boxing was invented.  
I had a meal of spaghetti with meat sauce and a dessert of chocolate ice cream with little brownie bits in it.   
I knew that the meat sauce was their way of introducing meat to me, as I had yet to keep larger quantities down without getting sick.   
The ice cream tasted really good, but it still felt heavy in my stomach and I wanted to throw it up.   
I couldn't, so I waited dutifully before limping back to my room.  
Muscles that I didn't even know existed or I didn't know were used in boxing were sore.  
I took an extremely hot shower, as heat relaxes and loosens muscles.   
When I got out, Felix raised his eyebrows.  
"Thought you were drowning in there," he said.   
There was a suggestive undertone in his voice.  
"I wasn't wanking, if that's what you're saying," I snorted, "Besides, I don't think that I can even lift my hand, much less wank."  
Felix laughed at that.   
We had an unspoken agreement that we would let each other take care of what needed to be taken care of. I really didn't mind if Felix wanked as long as he kept it quiet or did it in the shower.  
I'd only done it once, and it had resulted in me bursting into tears after realizing that I'd gotten off to the image of Louis.   
It had been a bit of an awkward moment when Felix had tried to comfort me after that.   
"That's true," he snorted.  
I pulled on a pair of boxers, too sore to bother with anything else, and collapsed on Felix's bed with a loud groan.  
"Kill me," I begged, "I don't think I'll ever move again."  
"I'd rather not," Felix said quietly.  
There was a short, uncomfortable silence.   
"However, I've been told that I give good massages, if you're interested," he suggested.  
I nodded and flopped onto my stomach.   
He started with the standard of massaging my shoulders. He worked his way down my back and I stifled a moan.   
Felix was absolutely brilliant at massages.   
His fingers dug into my lower back and I could practically feel the stiffness leave my muscles.  
"You're a god," I mumbled, my face in his pillow.  
"I know," he replied cheekily.   
He left my back to massage my calves. I hadn't really had a leg massage before, but it felt good, so I wasn't complaining.   
His hands moved to my thighs, occasionally brushing the edge of my boxers.   
It wasn't sexual at all to me. I was just focused on being completely relaxed. He could have given me an arse massage for all I cared.  
I sighed, relaxed as he returned to my back. I occasionally let out soft huffs and groans, because I could have sworn that he was magic with how good he felt.   
Felix continued for about ten minutes before he gave a little noise.   
"Done," he said quietly.   
I rolled over and eyed him thankfully.  
His face was a bit pink, but I didn't really care.   
"I'm sleepy," I mumbled, hugging his arm.   
"I need a shower," he said quickly, pulling his arm out of my grasp.   
"Don't leave me, you god," I protested, "I want your fingers again."  
I burst into laughter with how bad that had sounded and his face turned bright red.  
He grabbed his towel off of the floor and rushed off to the bathroom.  
I fell asleep before he got back, but I woke up in my own bed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an FYI, there's going to be one more book after The Moment I Knew in this series!!
> 
> Love you!!

Louis's POV

I was surprised that it took a while for the press to catch on to how often I was going out and getting drunk.   
It was a week after Zayn, Niall, and Liam had tried to talk to me and I was sitting at some bar in a club, downing drink after drink.  
I felt nauseous every time my eyes passed over my left wrist and the healing cut that was on it.   
I was extremely careful every time I went out. If I wasn't wearing long sleeves or a watch or a bracelet, I put concealer or foundation or whatever the fuck it was called over it to hide the cut.   
I hated the constant reminder of what I had done, but at the same time, I supposed that I deserved it.   
I understood that I was completely out of line when I'd been talking, well, yelling, at the boys, but it just made me feel so sick that they were right and that I really was ruining myself. It wasn't that I was angry at the boys, I was jealous if anything. I was jealous that they could see Harry, I was jealous that he hadn't fallen in love with them, and I was jealous that they didn't know what the pressure I was under was like.   
I was so angry with myself for so many reasons and I was taking it out on everyone around me.  
Girls came up to ask me to dance and I politely declined.   
Then guy came up and asked me.   
"I've noticed that you've been turning away all those girls. Are you just not in the mood to dance or are you not in the mood to dance with a girl?" he asked, grinning cheekily.   
"I'm not in the mood to dance," I snapped.   
I didn't want to talk to anybody. I just wanted to get spectacularly drunk like every other night and I wanted to just forget.   
"Not with me?" he joked, leaning on the bar counter and smirking at me.  
"I'm not gay," I said simply, turning back to my drink.  
"Never said you had to be. C'mon, it's just one dance. Lighten up a bit, yeah? You've been sitting here and glaring at your glass for two hours," he urged.  
I stood. I would probably be in articles claiming that I was gay because I was dancing with a guy, but I was drunk enough that it didn't matter.   
"Alright. But you better impress me," I said, winking at him.   
He pulled me over to the dance floor and into the mass of sweaty bodies.   
The music was something loud and fast- easy to dance to. He pulled me back against his chest and ground against my arse.  
"Sure you're straight?" he laughed in my ear, "You've got a fantastic arse. It's a pity that you don't put it to good use."  
"I've got a girlfriend!" I replied.  
"I know," he said, "I know who you are and I know you've got a girlfriend."  
I suddenly felt uncomfortable that he knew who I was. I knew that he could tell the press what it was like to dance with Louis Tomlinson when said popstar was on the verge of being pissed. I didn't know if I could trust him and I didn't like it. I squirmed away from him a bit.   
"Don't worry, I just wanted to see you relax for a second. I'm not going to sell my story of what the great Tomlinson arse does to me," he said, as if he had read my thoughts.  
"Oh, so I do something to you?" I challanged, raising my eyebrows.  
"Maybe we should keep dancing and you can find out," he said, drawing me back in.   
I snorted and ground back against his hips.   
It was strange to dance with a guy like I was. I'd always done everything possible to stay away from the gay rumors no matter how pissed I was.   
I remembered ranting to Harry about how stupid they were, how our fans were so annoying in thinking that he and I were together. He had sat and listened patiently and I wondered just how much I had hurt him.   
I laid my head against the guy's shoulder and turned my face up.   
"I don't normally do this," I yelled over the loud music.  
"I know. I expected more of a fight to get you to dance with me," he replied, smiling at me.   
"I'm straight!" I added.  
In the fuzzy, drunken state I was in, it was incredibly important to me that he knew that I wasn't gay or bi or anything of the sort.   
I wrapped my arms around his neck- an awkward position for me to be in- and continued to dance.   
I was sweating a lot, my back pressed snug against his front. As far as I could tell, he didn't care.   
Finally, I realized that I was incredibly thirsty and I reluctantly seperated myself from him.   
"I'm going to get a drink," I explained.  
He shrugged and followed me back to the bar.   
"For somebody who doesn't usually dance with guys, you're quite good at it," he said, smirking, "I'm Lucas, by the way."  
"Louis," I replied, "But you know that, don't you?"   
He nodded and grabbed his bottle of beer that he had ordered and took a slow drink.  
I felt his eyes trail down my body and I flushed when they came back up to meet mine.   
"If you don't usually do things like that, why'd you agree to do it with me? I figure that I'm really not that special," Lucas said.   
I took a large gulp of some vodka thing that I had ordered and shut my eyes as it burned down my throat.   
"I dunno. I'm feeling reckless, I guess. Who knows who just saw me grind with a guy, yeah?" I said, "I could be in a world of trouble with my management if anybody got any footage of that."  
"I don't think so. I was keeping an eye out for any cameras. I figured that you weren't," he said.  
I smiled in gratitude.   
"So, you a fan or do you just know of me?" I asked.  
"My boyfriend's a fan," he said.  
For some reason, the idea that he had a boyfriend surprised me.   
"Will he care that you just danced with me?" I asked.  
"You've got a girlfriend but you danced with me," he countered.  
"True," I admitted.  
"Plus, I think he'll probably wee himself when I tell him that I even talked to you, much less danced with you," he added, "Would it be a hassle for you to take a picture with me that I can send him?"   
"Of course not!" I said.  
Lucas took out his iPhone and we took a quick picture together.  
He sent it to his boyfriend and I looked at the contact name.   
"His name is Harry?" I asked, my stomach flipping.   
"Yeah. He loves that we're H and L, just like you and your Harry," he said.  
I opened my mouth to explain that Harry and I were in fact not together, but he quickly interrupted me, "We know that you two aren't actually together, just so you know. But my Harry is my best friend, just like your Harry is your best friend."  
My head started to hurt and I rested it on the bar counter.   
"He's not my best friend. I don't even know who the hell Harry Styles is anymore," I mumbled.  
With the noise in the club, my face in my arms and the slur of my words, I had no idea how Lucas managed to understand me.  
"Well, he was your best friend once," he said.  
I nodded.   
"I thought he was still, up until he tried to kill himself," I said, my eyes embarrassingly filling with tears, "But it turns out, I really don't know shit about him."  
Lucas frowned.   
"Like what?" he asked.  
"He's in love with me, that's why he's so fucking messed up," I groaned, shoving my hands in my hair.  
I was beyond caring about giving away too much. Plus, Lucas seemed nice enough.   
"I figured. He looked at you like the sun shines out of your arse," he said, nodding.  
I angrily finished what was in my glass and slammed it back down.  
"Everybody fucking knew except for me!" I snarled, "That's the worst part!"   
I snapped at the bartender to get me another drink.   
By the time I was stumbling out of the club, my security having to help me walk as I was spectacularly pissed, it was quite late.  
Alberto drove me back to Harry's- everyone knew that I staying there instead of my own place- and dropped me off.  
I entered and somehow made it into his bedroom without falling over.  
I collapsed onto his bed and sighed. At first, drinking had helped me sleep. But as I kept drinking more and more often. my insomnia returned.  
I wasn't sure why I couldn't sleep; I was absolutely knackered all the time. But when I shut my eyes, no matter how hard I tried to relax, I simply couldn't sleep.   
I called Eleanor. I wasn't sure what I said, my speech so slurred that I couldn't even understand myself, but I left her a long message.   
I rolled over onto my back and stared at Harry's ceiling until the sun came up.   
I must have fallen asleep for about three hours, because I woke up a while later.   
My head pounded and my tongue felt thick and heavy in my dry mouth.   
I groaned. I loved getting drunk, but dealing with the hangovers really was horrible.   
I remembered how Harry would always make sure that I had a glass of water and paracetamol next to the bed whenever I woke up with a hangover.   
I sighed and surged to my feet to get it myself. I looked at myself in the mirror and I laughed softly.   
I looked absolutely horrible. I looked sort of like a zombie. My skin was pale from exhaustion, and my eyes were dull with dark rings under them.   
I made a soft zombie noise to myself before snorting and returning to Harry's bed.   
It was stopped smelling like Harry and it bothered me to no end.   
I picked up my laptop from the floor.   
I logged onto Twitter.   
'128,' I tweeted.   
I still kept a countdown of how many days were left until Harry would be allowed to return.   
I tweeted every single day, but I never stayed on for much longer after that.   
I had made my decision that I would stay in bed all day, so I scrolled through the website.   
I furrowed my eyebrows when I read a lot of the tweets.   
A lot of our fans were talking about 'Helix' and I was confused.  
Eventually, I realized that Harry had made a new video and that was why the majority of my followers were freaking out. Then I figured out that 'Helix' was Felix and Harry.   
I growled to myself. The boys hasn't even bothered telling me that Harry had made another video.   
The rational side of me figured that they were giving me a lot of space after I had yelled at them a week prior. I appreciated it, but I was lonely.   
I grudgingly went to Harry's account and clicked on the link. Management had left his twitter alone, only posting the two videos since he had gone to rehab.   
It directed me to our YouTube channel and a video buffered once the page loaded.   
'Hi' it was called. I rolled my eyes. Harry had probably requested that it be named that. He was so random and weird sometimes.   
The video started just like his last one had. He and Felix were smushed together on a bed. Harry held the camera facing them.  
He didn't look quite so skinny and I was pleased.   
"So, I'm bored, so Felix suggested that we make another video. I'm not really sure what exactly we'll be talking about, so this should be quite interesting," Harry began, giving Felix a quick look.   
"We were considering giving you guys a little tour of this place," Felix said.  
"And I really don't want to get up. I'm at what is apparently a healthy weight- it's the way lower end of what's considered healthy- so I can work out for a half hour every other day. It's seriously like...I can hardly move any of my limbs afterwards. I am so out of shape," Harry laughed.   
"I literally have to carry him back to our room afterwards," Felix added, "You've gotten a bit of muscle on you, though. You don't have to stop every few minutes now."   
"Yeah, it's like every five now," Harry said sarcastically, "It's really great."  
"Don't be so pessimistic," Felix complained, poking Harry's dimple.   
I scowled at the screen. I was always the one to poke Harry's dimples and I didn't want Felix to take my place as dimple-poker.   
"C'mon, popstar, we've got to give your adoring fans a tour of where we are!" Felix said, his lip sticking out in a theatrical pout.  
"I just ate though. My stomach hurts," Harry whined.  
"You ate two hours ago. You're fine," Felix snorted, "You're not going to throw up if you haven't yet."   
"Whatever," Harry muttered, then he looked back at the screen, "Seriously, though. Don't ever starve yourself. When you're forced to eat again, your stomach will hurt very, very badly no matter what you eat."  
"You throw up what your stomach can't handle too," Felix supplied, smiling brightly at Harry.  
"It's lovely," Harry sighed.  
"So, lets show them around the room first," Felix said.  
Harry turned the camera around. He aimed it at their entangled feet.  
I cringed at the sight.   
"Felix's bed," he said.  
He turned it over to another bed a few feet away, then around the rest of the room.  
"My bed. The desks. Closet. Toilet. Door," he said, "It's quite a lovely room."   
He groaned as he stood up.  
"'m really, really sore," he complained, shoving shoes on and exiting the room.   
Felix followed him. Harry turned the camera back around.  
"So, we'll show you guys my least favorite place first, where we eat!" Harry said, shuddering, "So much vomiting goes on there. At least, it does with me."  
I was surprised with how open Harry was. He was joking about the struggles that he went through.   
They jogged down a flight of steps and walked down another hallway, making faces at the camera the entire time.  
"Tiana, my darling!" Felix suddenly called.   
Harry turned the camera around. There was a very thin but pretty girl sitting at a table, sulking as she put a forkful of chicken to her mouth. I could guess from her prominent bones and reluctance to eat why she was there.   
"Harry, help me!" Tiana complained.  
"I can't eat a lot of meat yet. S' too complicated for my stomach," Harry said sympathetically, "I'm seriously considering becoming a vegetarian."   
He spun in a circle, the camera showing the entire room.  
"So, yeah. This is where we eat. Several times a day, in my case. Like seriously, I can't leave for an entire hour afterwards, so that they can make sure I don't throw up," Harry explained.  
Again, I was surprised at how easily he talked about it.   
"Gym?" Felix suggested.  
"Yeah. See you, Ti!" Harry called, "Good luck!"   
Tiana growled in response.   
"So, I've started boxing to work out. I used to do it a lot. I didn't even know you could use certain muscles in boxing, but I am literally sore everywhere. I think my eyelids might be sore from blinking," Harry complained.  
Felix laughed; he cackled, really.   
"Felix gives good massages, though," Harry added.  
I slammed down the computer lid and scowled at it.   
Harry and Felix reminded me of how Harry and I had used to be and it really, really hurt.   
I had to admit, I was jealous of their friendship. How couldn't I be? Harry wouldn't even acknowledge that I existed!   
I opened the lid of my laptop and clicked play reluctantly.   
"Here is where I get my arse handed to me every other day," Harry said, opening a door.  
It was a nice facility.   
"Harry, I'm not even fighting back," Felix laughed.  
"Shut up," Harry muttered, "It's still hard."   
Felix made a little cooing noise.  
The camera was jostled as I assumed Harry shoved him. There was a lot of scuffling, then a loud thwack and a lot of laughter. I got a nice look at Harry's shoe.   
"You made me drop the camera, you idiot!" Harry laughed.   
He picked it up and turned it to face them as they left the room.   
"Do you hate me?" Felix asked, giving Harry a pathetic, innocent expression.  
"Love you with all my heart," Harry replied, smiling at him.  
They looked at each other for a second before Harry returned to talking to the camera. I noticed that Felix had gone a little pink and jealousy stirred in my chest again.  
It was quite obvious that Felix had a crush on Harry. It bothered me not to know if Harry knew.   
They walked around, talking and joking. I saw the pool, other different facilities, and the door to where Harry went to his therapy appointments. They also showed a room with a bunch of game consoles and other games in it. There was a pool table and an air hockey table.  
"We've got computers, but Harry isn't allowed to know where they are 'cause he can't use them," Felix explained.  
"I think it's stupid. I don't care about hate," Harry whined.   
"We're just trying to protect your innocent little mind," Felix replied, slinging an arm around Harry and ruffling his hair.  
I really, really loathed Felix. I decided that if I ever met him, I would probably hit him.   
"I'm not innocent!" Harry protested.  
They made their way back to their room, where they squeezed together in Felix's bed again.   
"Would you believe that he's never sung for me?" Felix said, "I want him to, but he never does."  
"The last time you asked me ended with me hitting my head off a sink and passing out," Harry said, laying his head on Felix's shoulder, "That's why I've got this mark on my forehead now."   
"You also had a panic attack. But that wasn't because I asked you to sing, it was because I made that stupid comment about...um, you know," Felix murmured.  
I knew that I was the 'you know' and I desperately wanted to know just what Felix had said about me that resulted in Harry having a panic attack.   
"Whatever," Harry sighed, his eyes briefly flickering with some hidden emotion.   
"So you should sing for me now," Felix urged.   
"Pressure isn't good! I'm fragile!" Harry protested, squealing in a rather un-manly like way as Felix poked his side.   
"You're fine. Sing!" he ordered.  
"What do you want me to sing?" Harry asked, relenting.   
Felix made a show of thinking for a song. Harry removed his head from Felix's shoulder, only for Felix to slide down and rest his own head on Harry's chest.   
"Sing...um...oh! You know Look After You by the Fray, yeah? I love that song, sing that!" Felix commanded.   
Both me and Harry froze. Harry's jaw clenched and his eyes darkened.   
"You're a fucking bastard," he muttered, so quietly that I knew most people watching wouldn't hear him.   
Felix continued to blink up at him, oblivious to why Harry's mood had suddenly changed.   
"Alright," Harry sighed heavily.  
He sang the song. He looked down at Felix the majority of the time. His eyes were blank though, like he wasn't really looking at anything but through it instead.   
When he finished, Felix clapped feverishly.  
"Bravo!" he cheered.   
"Okay. I need to go eat soon, and the camera's running out of battery. Lets say out goodbyes, shall we?" Harry suggested, still seeming quite detached.   
They said goodbye and the video ended. I stared at the screen, frozen in place.  
Harry knew that Look After You was my favorite song and it had been for years. I'd even covered it before One Direction. I'd persuaded him to sing it with me once, too.   
I'd seen the pain in his expression when he had sung and I shoved the laptop off of the bed. I was the pain in his eyes. I was why he hurt so much. I was why he had thought it necessary to kill himself!   
I felt sick.   
Yes, I would most certainly hit Felix if I ever met him, and I'd hit him hard. 

 

Harry's POV

"You know, your fans made us a lovely couple name. Helix, I think it is, like a double helix in DNA," Felix said.  
We were playing some stupid card game on his bed. He kept cheating and I kept forgetting how to play.   
"That's cute," I muttered, trying to remember what to do, "I've got a couple name with practically everyone I ever stop to talk to."  
"Ah, the manwhore image," Felix sighed.  
He swiped his hand over the cards on the bed, knocking most of them to the floor.   
"I'm hungry," he whined.  
"I'm not," I retorted.  
Of course, my stomach was an absolute prick and decided to take that opportunity to growl quite loudly.   
"Yes you are," he said smugly.   
I rolled my eyes at him.   
We walked down together, his arm firmly around my waist and mine around his shoulders.   
"I want a burger," he decided.   
It was actually quite nice. We could pretty much eat whatever we wanted. We could even cook it ourselves.   
"I don't want anything," I said stubbornly.   
"Yeah, but what do you need?" Felix sighed.   
"Nothing," I replied, snorting at his exasperated expression.  
"Harry. You're going to eat," he ordered.   
"Fine, whatever. Whatever has like a lot of calories in it but isn't too complicated," I said.  
"You could get like, chips or something," Felix suggested, "Have you eaten many fried foods?"   
I shrugged.   
"I've eaten chips before. Yeah, whatever, I'll eat those," I said.  
Soon, we were sitting down and eating.  
I lazily swirled a chip in ketchup as Felix practically swallowed his burger whole.  
"Chew," I snorted.   
"Eat," he countered.   
I put the chip in my mouth and chewers with my mouth hanging open. I swallowed dramatically.  
"Now repeat," he instructed.  
"So, did you see what they're saying about the new video we made?" I asked.  
"You do know that we aren't supposed to talk about this. I'm not really allowed to talk about the Internet with you," he said, "But apparently we make a cute couple and a lot of people want us together."  
He turned faintly pink and I chuckled.   
"Our fans have a tendency to appreciate gay people," I said.  
"There's fanart of us already. It's seriously really realistic. I'll probably end up wanking to those images," he joked.   
I laughed, "That's our fans for you."   
I finished my chips and tossed away my garbage. We went back to our room.   
I padded into the bathroom and stared at my body, as I usually did after eating.   
Felix followed me. He stood behind me and sighed.   
"You're not fat, you know," he said.  
"I know. But I feel like it. I always thought that my bones sticking out like they did was kind of pretty, in a twisted way," I said.  
I ignored his heavy sigh.  
He wrapped his arms around my stomach and pulled my close to his chest.  
"You're perfect the way you are," he murmured.  
"You're getting sentimental," I complained.   
"But you are. You're fucking gorgeous, Harry," he said, leaning down to rest his chin on my slightly bony shoulder.   
"My ego is growing," I replied, "Keep feeding it."  
"I'm serious," he whined.   
"I'm not perfect, though. I'm really messed up, you know that," I sighed, sagging a little.   
"Well, you're perfect on the outside at least," Felix said lightly, "And you're really not that messed up. You've just had an unfortunate experience and you didn't really deal with it well. You're completely normal compared to some people here."   
"I haven't gone on a murderous rampage yet," I agreed.   
"Exactly," he said, "Now, I want to go swimming and you should come with me."   
"I can't work out, though," I said.  
"So don't swim laps or do water yoga or whatever shit you can do in a pool. Practice your handstands. Or just sit in the hot tub if you want to be boring," he said.  
I nodded in agreement and went to get changed.  
I lounged in the rather large hot tub as Felix swam back and forth in the large pool.   
My eyes were shut and I was starting to drift off when I was being forced out of the hot water.  
Felix carried me across the pool deck and I gave a shriek that was definitely manly when I realized what his intentions were.  
I flailed around.  
"Ohmygod, Felix, put me down! I'm going to fucking kill you, seriously!" I yelled.   
He laughed and threw me into the pool.  
My body was quite warm from sitting in the hot tub and the pool water felt like ice in comparison.   
I surfaced, spluttering and shouting expletives at Felix and oaths to kill him in his sleep.   
I lurched out of the water and chased him all the way back to our room. I threw my wet shorts onto his bed in revenge.  
I was panting from the exertion that running took and I was mildly jealous of how unaffected Felix seemed.  
"I'm going to go shower, you absolute bastard," I growled.   
I was heading into the toilet when Felix stopped me.  
"Hey, Harry?" he called.  
"What?" I snapped.   
"We forgot our shoes by the pool."


	16. Chapter 16

Liam's POV 

Anne walked out of Harry's room, smiling. It was a rare sight to see her smile, so I was content upon seeing her.  
Gemma went in after her, giving her mum a quick, hopeful smile.   
"How is he?" I asked.  
"He's in a really good mood, actually," Anne said.   
Then her smile slid off her face and she sighed.   
"But he's got his highs and lows. Usually when he's in a good mood, he shuts up and refuses to get out of bed or do anything ten minutes later," she added sadly, "I just hate seeing him like this. I know that you do too, but..."  
"It's different when you're his mum," I supplied.  
Anne nodded.  
"But it's different for everyone, isn't it?" she asked.   
I nodded.  
"We're all dealing differently, as well," I murmured, my thoughts drifting to Louis.   
He hadn't even let me in the flat two days prior when I'd gone to apologize for 'ganging up on him'. I didn't think we were at fault, but Louis was a ticking time bomb and I knew that we needed to be in his good graces.   
He hadn't said anything, but I knew that he was in the flat. Mostly because of the blaring music- he'd been listening to Look After You by The Fray- but also because he never left to go anywhere anyways.   
He went to clubs and bars frequently and I was getting increasingly worried about him. He'd kept his cut hidden, but that also meant that I couldn't see if there were any others, especially since he wouldn't talk to anybody.   
I was struck by the similarity between Louis and Harry.   
They were both depressed. Harry had been diagnosed with it, but it was fairly obvious that Louis wasn't the happiest person ever.   
They were both hurting themselves to deal with what they felt. For Harry, it was eating disorders and self-harm. Alcohol was Louis's blade.   
They both had really messed up love lives. Harry had fallen head over heels for Louis, who had seen his fiancée approximately twice in the two and a half months that Harry had been gone for.   
They both refused to speak. Harry wouldn't talk to the lads and I, and Louis did the same. He yelled at us occasionally, but he slowly spoke less and less.  
They were both retreating inside of themselves. Harry had shut us out towards the end before he had tried to kill himself and Louis had set up so many walls around himself that I couldn't even see through his defenses anymore.   
"How is Louis?" Anne asked worriedly, breaking me out of my thoughts.  
I sighed and shrugged.   
"No better than last time you asked. Still drinking, still angry, still not sleeping," I said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.   
"I should visit him," she mused, "I'm in the area every week anyways. I don't know why I haven't."  
"He can be pretty intimidating, that's why," I snorted, "Especially if you get him mad."   
"From what you tell me, he's always mad," she replied.   
Zayn walked into the little waiting area and smiled.   
"Hello, Anne," he greeted.  
"Hi, Zayn. We're having a wonderful discussion about Louis," she said.   
Zayn cringed.   
"Last time I saw him, I thought he was going to attack me," he grumbled.   
"You were kind of a jerk with the whole comment about not getting scratched at the club," I said.   
"Well he shouldn't be lying to us. We know that he cut himself, so...," Zayn drawled.   
"Wait, are we talking about Louis?" Anne asked, her eyebrows raising.   
"Unfortunately. I noticed a cut on his wrist about a week and a half ago. Both times we tried to talk to him about it, he went absolutely mental and said that he must have done it accidentally or something," I explained, "But I've been around Harry enough to know the difference between a scratch and an on-purpose cut. Louis definitely did it intentionally."  
Anne frowned and it occured to me how much she had aged in the two months that Harry had been in rehab.   
"Louis is like my second son. You all are. It's just hard to hear how badly he's doing. I'll go see him after this," Anne promised.  
"We can't guarantee that he'll talk to you calmly or even open the door, really. But he loves you and he'll probably be more calm around you than us," Zayn sighed.  
Anne nodded.   
"Well, I'll probably go head to him now, then," she said.  
"He'll probably be drunk by the time you get there if you leave any later," Zayn quipped, and I glared at him.  
"I'll see you boys next week, okay? Take care of yourselves; I mean it," she said sternly, hugging us good-bye.  
She left and a silence settled over Zayn and I for a few minutes.   
"Do you think he'll talk to her?" Zayn asked.  
"I think he will. He loves Anne. And it's probably easier to talk to her than to us or his own mum because out of anybody, she can relate to him best. Obviously, Harry wasn't in love with her, but she and Louis are probably the two most affected by this," I mused, "Not that we aren't or Gemma isn't, but you get what I mean, yeah?"  
"Yeah," Zayn said, nodding.  
Niall walked over to us and greeted us quietly. He'd been a little bit quiet ever since Louis had yelled at him. I'd only seen Niall once since then, but he wasn't a quiet person.   
"Anne went to go visit Lou," I informed him.  
Niall scrunched his nose up.   
"Hope she knows what she's in store for. I don't think he drinks anything but alcohol anymore. Hopefully he's sober when she gets there," he said.  
"Louis won't be drunk. It's not even early evening yet," I said.   
"I doubt he cares," Niall snapped, then his eyes filled with regret, "I'm sorry, Li. I'm just worried and stressed. I didn't mean to get angry."   
I fought back a laugh.   
"Louis has said a lot worse to all of us and he never apologizes. It's alright, Nialler. You still upset about what happened?" I asked.  
Niall shrugged.  
"I guess so. Like I just said, I'm worried. I don't want to watch another one of my friends just fade away like Harry did. Louis's lost a bit of weight, have you noticed?" he asked, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.  
"Cause nothing goes in him but alcohol," Zayn grumbled.  
"Unfortunately, I have a feeling that's fairly true," I agreed, "I've been looking at therapists in London. The problem is how we get Lou to agree to go."  
"Drug him. Tie him up and smuggle him to wherever," Zayn suggested.  
I wanted to laugh, but I had a feeling that that probably wasn't a bad idea.   
Gemma walked out.   
"Go on in, Liam," she said.   
She sounded cheerful.   
"Is Harry like throwing a party in there or something? Anne was happy when she came out too," I said.   
"Nah, he's just in a great mood. He actually laughed! I haven't seen him laugh in practically a year!" she exclaimed.   
Her eyes teared up suddenly and she feverishly wiped at them.  
"I'm sorry," she sniffed, "It just feels like he's finally getting better and I'm relieved."   
"You have a right to be," I said, patting her shoulder as I stood.  
"Where'd my mum go, anyways?" she asked, clearing her throat.  
"To visit Louis," I said, "And now, I'm going to visit Harry."   
I was a little apprehensive as I opened the door. Both Anne and Gemma had said that Harry was in a good mood for once, but I knew that I'd find him sullen and silent in his chair.   
I stepped inside and a loud laugh startled me.  
Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed, cackling at something Felix had said.   
They looked towards me as the door shut.   
"Hi!" Felix said, sitting next to Harry.   
"Hello," I replied.   
Harry locked eyes with me. His smile faded and he looked incredibly small and shy.   
"Hi, Liam," he said quietly.   
I was taken aback.   
"Um...hey! You're talking," I said dumbly.  
His mouth quirked up into a half-smile.   
"Yeah. You can come over here, you know. I don't bite," he said.  
"Yes you do," Felix muttered and they shared a quick, humored glance.   
I tentatively sat down across from them, on Felix's bed.  
"So...why now?" I asked.  
Harry looked confused for a second, then nodded as he understood.   
"I...don't know. I was always really scared to talk to you guys, I guess. I was scared that you'd make me talk about things that I didn't want to talk about. It already stressed me out to be around you in general, and I just wasn't ready, I guess," he mumbled, glancing at Felix every so often, "Um...I dunno why now, really. I guess I just woke up and didn't feel like being quiet any more."   
I watched him carefully as he scratched the back of his neck. The scars that went up and down his arm hadn't seem to have faded at all. I wondered if some of them ever would. I cringed as I saw the dark, desperate, vertical cuts. I highly doubted that those would ever go away.   
"I understand, I think," I said.   
Harry nodded absently and rested his head on Felix's shoulder. Not for the first time, I wondered if there wasn't something more between them. I found it hard to believe that Harry would forget about his love for Louis so easily.   
But at the same time, I remembered how he had used Taylor and I prayed that he wasn't using Felix the same way. The poor guy was extremely obviously into Harry.   
"So," Felix said brightly, "How are you today, Liam?"   
I blinked at him.   
"I'm fine. How are you guys?" I asked.   
It had always been so easy to just talk to Harry without him replying, but now that he was talking, I felt awkward.   
I wasn't sure what I could talk about, namely Louis. I doubted that I could talk about him but I wasn't sure how to ask.   
"Fine. What about you, popstar?" Felix asked, looking at Harry.   
"Sore," Harry said, smirking.   
I choked and they both looked at me, entertainment across both of their features.   
"I didn't mean it like that, Li!" Harry snorted, "If you watched my video, you'd know that I recently started to work out again. I've lost a lot of muscle, so I'm sore all the time now."  
I nodded, trying to hide the blush that was creeping over my cheeks.   
"You've got therapy, Felix. Go," Harry said, pushing Felix away.   
"Fine! I'll miss you," Felix cooed, planting a kiss on Harry's head.  
Harry's eyes fluttered shut momentarily, then snapped open as Felix left.   
Awkwardness settled around us and I coughed to break the silence.  
"Did you seriously think we slept together?" Harry finally asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.   
I looked up to see his eyes drilling directly into mine. His stare was intense and I had to look away.  
"I didn't know! The way you two looked at each other when you said you were sore, I don't know!" I complained, allowing myself to smile a bit.   
Harry chuckled and then his eyes dropped from mine and darkened.   
"I'd be a shit boyfriend right now," he murmured, "I couldn't date somebody who loved me when I couldn't love them back. I'd spend all my time wishing that they were somebody else."  
He looked back up, his eyes so unbelievably sad and broken that I had to look away again.   
"So...you guys are just friends?" I asked.   
"Yeah. Just good friends. He's my best mate, Li. It's kind of like how...you know, Louis and I used to be," he mumbled.   
He drummed his heels against the floor restlessly.   
"And that turned to shit, didn't it?" he snapped, his voice filling with sudden anger.  
I didn't answer. Instead, I opted for warily watching him battle against his own mind.  
He absently scratched at his wrists and I knew what he wanted.   
After a few minutes, he shook his head and cleared his throat.   
"My point is, we're just friends," he said, noticeably more calm.   
I studied him.   
"He's a good guy," I said carefully.  
Harry nodded, smiling a little. I knew that he had shoved his wild, negative emotions away.   
"He threw me into the pool the other day when I was in the hot tub," he said.   
"That's terrible!" I laughed.   
"He can be a vicious thing when he wants," Harry agreed, smiling crookedly.   
He glanced at the clock and sighed.   
"Zayn's turn," I said.   
He smiled at me and nodded.   
Taking me by surprise, he got up, crossed over to the bed I sat on, and hugged me tightly.   
"Thank you," he murmured in my ear.   
I wasn't sure what he was thanking me for, but I hugged him back.   
"I miss you," I said.   
He nodded and pulled away.   
"Talk to you next week," he said, suddenly looking shy again.   
I turned to leave and he gripped my wrist.   
"Liam?" he asked softly, staring at the carpet.   
"Yeah?" I asked.  
"Um...how...how is he? You know, um, Louis?" he mumbled.   
I blinked at him.   
"Harry," I sighed.  
He looked up, his eyes wide with desperation.  
"Please tell me!" he begged, "I know he's hurting and I hate knowing that I can help him, but I can't deal with seeing him now! So, please, just tell me how he is!"   
I bit my lip and nodded slightly.   
"He's...he's very...angry, I guess. He doesn't talk to anybody, really. Niall's still shaken up from when he yelled at us a week ago. He's...been through a lot and he isn't dealing with it well," I said slowly.  
Harry's eyes filled with anguish and I wondered if telling him hadn't been the wrong idea.   
He pressed his lips together and scratched at his wrist.   
"I'm sorry," he whispered, so softly that I hardly heard him, "So sorry, Lou."  
I pulled him close and he took a long, shuddering breath.   
"Alright," he finally said, relatively composed, "I'll see you, Li."   
I left with a wave and a smile.   
I grinned when I saw Niall and Zayn.   
"He's talking," I informed them.  
Niall lit up like a kid on Christmas and Zayn smiled.   
I gestured towards the door and Zayn went inside.   
"I'll wait with you. I want to talk to Felix," I said to Niall, "Ask him if he knows anything we can do to help Lou."   
"How's Harry?" Niall asked.   
I snorted at his eagerness.  
"He's actually pretty happy, I guess. I joked around with him. He asked about Lou when I was about to leave though," I said.  
"What'd you say?" Niall asked.  
"I told him that Louis is angry a lot and just isn't doing well. Harry doesn't need to know about the insomnia, alcohol, or cutting."  
Niall nodded.   
"At least he's talking," he said.  
"Yeah," I said.  
Felix approached his room.   
"Hey, Felix! Can I talk to you for a second?" I called.  
He looked confused, but nodded.   
"Um, we can walk around, I guess?" he said.   
I nodded and jumped up to join him. I waited until we were a bit away from Niall to start.  
"So, I'm really worried about Louis and I was wondering if you had any advice. It just seems like you know how to deal with Harry so well," I explained.  
"What's going on with Louis?" Felix asked.   
He looke genuinely concerned.   
"He's been drinking a lot lately, like getting pissed every night and we're really worried. He's really angry too. Like, we can't have a decent conversation with him before something sets him off and he starts yelling," I explained.  
"Alright," Felix said and motioned for me to go on, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.   
I had no idea how he knew there was more to the story, but he did.   
"About a week ago, he raised his hand or something, and I saw this cut on his wrist. Just one, but still. I've seen Harry's cuts enough that I know the difference between those and an accidental scratch, and Louis definitely cut himself intentionally. He keeps insisting, quite violently actually, that he doesn't know how he got it and that it was an accident but it's such bullshit. I just don't know what to do!" I said.   
Felix nodded and we strolled in silence for a while. Finally, he sighed and nodded again.   
"What Louis is doing, it's called projection. That's basically the fancy term for 'he's taking what he's feeling out on you'. You really don't need to know that, I just felt like being smart for a second," Felix said, shooting me a smile.   
I smiled back.   
"Anyways, back to what actually matters. He's overwhelmed, that's obvious. But he's probably really confused too. Here, somebody who he considered his best mate and who he thought he knew every little thing about, turned out to be somebody completely different. Once second, Louis thought everything was fine with Harry and him and the next, he finds Harry's maybe dead body and a letter telling him everything he thought Harry was was quite wrong. It's a shit ton of trauma for somebody to go through at once. At least you knew that Harry was in love with him. Louis had to find all of this out all at once. You following?" Felix said.   
I nodded, carefully attentive.   
"When you came home from the hospital the first night, since you couldn't have stayed over, what did Louis do?" he asked.   
"He asked to be dropped off at his place. He went to Harry's after that, but yeah. He went there and we went to my place," I said.  
Felix made a disapproving noise.  
"You should have made him stay with you, in case he went into shock. People can go into shock hours after something happens to them, which is dangerous. Basically, you shouldn't have left Louis alone for days. He shouldn't even be by himself now, with how you tell me he's been acting. Obviously he's using the alcohol to help him calm his mind or forget about his stress and worries. It's only natural that he wants to do that. And it's okay to let loose every so often, but not every night, especially if he's alone. What if he gets alcohol poisoning or chokes on his own vomit? It happens," Felix said.  
I nodded, suddenly praying that Anne was with Louis and that he was okay. Felix made Louis seem so dangerous to himself, and everything made sense. I realized that Louis really shouldn't have been trusted alone for so long.   
"You should have somebody stay with him. His girlfriend, for example. And you should keep all the alcohol out of that flat and make sure that he doesn't go out to a bar or a club to get it. He needs to figure out how to deal with himself without alcohol," Felix said.   
"His girlfriend is at Uni, but I'm sure that one of us could stay with him," I agreed.   
Felix smiled quickly.   
"Which also leads me to that cut. My best guess is that like I said before, he's really confused. Nobody can give him answers and he needs them. He wants to know everything that he didn't know about Harry, but nobody but Harry can tell him that. So I'm guessing that he's trying to find out by himself, starting with why Harry cut himself. I'm guessing that Louis was feeling especially overwhelmed, so he thought why not? He wanted to know what Harry saw in it so badly that he lost control of himself for a moment and cut himself. He gets angry when you guys try to talk to him because he's extremely angry with himself, not you. The guilt and hate is eating at him, so the only thing he can do is drink and lash out at you guys," Felix said simply.   
I gaped at him.   
"How the hell do you get all that from just me telling you Louis is angry, potentially an alcoholic, and he cut himself?" I asked.  
"I majored in psychology before I got addicted to drugs. I know how people work fairly well, which helps when Harry's in distress. It helps me to know if I need to be stern or gentle, or if he wants to talk or just be quiet. Psychology is quite useful," Felix said, somewhat smugly.   
"Christ," I muttered, "So what should we do? I can't watch somebody else kill themselves in front of me."  
Felix gave me a sad, understanding smile.   
"Like I said, make sure that he's not alone so often and that he doesn't drink. I highly suggest getting him somebody to talk to, like a therapist," he advised.   
"Alright. Thanks, Felix," I said.  
We had circled back to his and Harry's room, where Niall was just leaving.  
"See you next week," Felix said, winking at me.   
I walked out of the center with Niall.  
"What'd he say?" he asked.   
"That Louis really shouldn't be living by himself, which I completely agree with. We need to take the alcohol out of Harry's flat and we need to get Lou somebody to talk to," I summarized.  
Niall listened carefully and we reached our cars.  
"I'll see you. We have an interview in two days, don't forget," I said as we split apart.  
He nodded and waved to me.   
I drove back to my place with a lot on my mind.

 

Louis's POV

I was laying on Harry's sofa, staring at the ceiling. I'd been doing so for two hours.   
I was trying to relax and clear my mind, but all it did was give my neck a cramp from being still for so long.  
There was a knock on the door.   
"I don't give a fuck! Go away!" I yelled.   
I didn't want to talk to Liam, Zayn or Niall. I just wanted to rot away by myself like I deserved.   
"Open the door."  
It was a female's voice and I was confused. I got up and opened the door.  
"Anne!" I exclaimed.   
She came inside and hugged me tightly. I hadn't showered that day, so I probably didn't smell wonderful, but I returned the hug.   
"I hear that you haven't been doing so well?" she asked, raising her eyebrows sternly.  
Anne Cox was literally my second mother, just like my own mum was like Harry's second mother.  
I shrugged guiltily.   
She took my left hand and rolled the sleeve up, revealing the pink scar on my wrist.  
I quickly wrenched my hand from hers and shoved my sleeve down, glaring at her.   
"I already know. Liam told me," she explained.  
"Liam doesn't know what he's talking about!" I snapped, stomping into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of beer that I'd left in the fridge.  
Anne stared at it disapprovingly.   
"Don't drink that. You don't need it," she said.   
"I kind of do, Anne. I'd go crazy if I didn't drink," I explained, opening it and taking a sip.   
"No you wouldn't," she sighed, batting it out of my hand so that it fell and shattered, spilling on the floor.   
I stared at her.   
"Got a broom?" she asked.  
I cleaned up the mess, sulking. My body craved for some kind of alcohol, just to relieve the stress that I felt.  
"Now, we are going to go sit and you are going to explain to me why your best friends are scared to talk to you," she ordered.   
I glared at her and she mimicked my scowl as I stormed over to the sofa and flopped onto it.   
"Why are you living here, if you don't mind me asking? Why not your own place?" she asked.   
I sighed, "It's hard to explain. I just feel comforted when I'm here. I always went to Harry when I was upset, so I guess this is sort of my way of going to him."   
Anne nodded.  
"When I came back after he went to the hospital, I sat in his room for hours," she said.   
My mouth twitched into a half-assed attempt at a smile.  
"You know, your friends are worried to death about you. Same with your mother. Everyone is scared that you're going to just go downhill like Harry did," she said.   
I stiffened.  
"I'm not going to fucking kill myself!" I barked.  
"Never said you were. But you're drinking so much and it's dangerous. There's alcohol poisoning for example, or just passing out and choking on your own vomit. You're setting a terrible example for your fans as well," Anne said.   
I bit my lip.   
"It just hurts and confuses me too much to stay sober," I admitted.  
She rubbed my knee.  
"I know. I understand. My son, my happy, care-free, wonderful son tried to commit suicide. I felt like killing myself too for a few moments. The pressure is just so intense at some times," she said, "I haven't slept well since."  
"In case you can't tell, I've developed insomnia," I said.   
"I could tell," she said dryly, "You look exhausted beyond exhausted."  
"I am. But I just can't sleep and I really don't want to take any medicine! It's just reminds me too much of death," I said, stress starting to build on my shoulders.   
Anne frowned.   
"And at first, drinking helped, you know? But now I just stay drunk and I have to be awake all the time and I'm tired!" I said, starting to cry.  
"Oh, Louis," she cooed, "It'll be okay eventually, you'll see."  
"But when's eventually?" I wailed.  
Anne didn't have an answer to that.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry's POV

It was one of those days.   
It was one of those days where I just couldn't bring myself to get out of bed.   
My mind seemed clouded and I felt utterly worthless and empty.   
It was one of those days where the only word I could describe what I felt with was black.   
All the pain and anxiety and depression I felt settled over me; it sank into my bones and left me immobile.   
I had expected it though. My mood could swing wildly in just seconds. But I had been in a great mood for a few days and I knew that I would crash and burn.   
I curled up tightly under the duvet and sheets on my bed and blinked at the blank wall.  
Felix had gone to get breakfast, assuming that I was still sleeping.   
I'd been up since before dawn, just staring at the wall. I'd shuffled to the loo at some point, but then I'd crawled back into bed.   
It was one of those days where depression completely consumed me. I felt heavy, both physically and mentally, like the weight of the entire world prevented me from moving.   
"Good morning, popstar!" Felix sang as he entered the room, "I brought you food!"   
I didn't acknowledge him. I didn't think I was psychically able to even if I had wanted to.   
I had a vague sense that I should have been hungry, but I wasn't. I wanted Felix to go away and take his stupid food with him. I didn't care about eating. I didn't care about anything. I wanted to die alone in that bed.   
"Harry, I'll dump this all over you if you don't wake up!" Felix threatened cheerfully.   
He was being serious. He had poured cereal and milk on me before.   
I still didn't say anything. I couldn't take my eyes off of the wall.   
It was white, a contrast to the black that ran through my body.   
Felix shook me and I felt a swell of irritation build in my chest. I just wanted to be alone!   
After trying to gently coax me awake, Felix seemed to understand.   
There was a clink as he set down the plate that I assumed that he still held and he rubbed my back.   
I swallowed the sudden lump of anger that had risen in my throat.   
The only way I could describe those days was that it was like I slipped into a seperate mindspace.  
I couldn't really feel anything psychically other than a continuous, pressing weight that pinned me to the bed and silenced any attempts to speak.   
The press of Felix's hand on my back felt strange, like my skin was numb and I could only feel the faintest of pressure.   
I couldn't even really hear him. His voice was a faint, warbling sound like a bad cell phone connection.   
Even the thoughts in my own head swam around. They tangled with each other until they didn't even make sense to me.  
The only thoughts that I could understand where insulting ones.   
'Worthless', 'Pathetic' and 'Insignificant' were words that my mind hurled at itself often.   
I wanted to grab something to cut the words out of me, but I couldn't.   
I was weighed down by my own thoughts.   
It psyically hurt to rebel against my own body and move or try and block out the self-deprecating thoughts.   
I'd had days before rehab that were the same, but I'd had to force myself to move and function like a human being.   
I had to, with the band.   
Those were the days that I wore long sleeves to cover the fresh cuts that filled my arm, that I couldn't eat or drink anything without it immediatly coming back up without assistance from my fingers.   
Liam had told me during one of his first visits that one of his most terrifying moments had been on one of those days.   
I didn't remember it. I had been in the black of my mind when it happened.   
I had taken two hours to just crawl, literally crawl, out of bed and to my car to drive to an interview. Or maybe it had been a photoshoot. I wasn't sure.   
I'd apparently sat down afterwards and just shut down, completely losing myself to my darker side.   
Liam had been the one to find me in the dressing room, slumped on the couch, completely motionless.   
He'd said how blank my eyes had been and how he had thought I was dead.   
He had slapped me twice before I had been forced out of that black mindspace and into a more grey one where I could actually function.   
I felt Felix lay down beside me and a faint tugging at my scalp as he ran his hands through my hair.  
I felt incredibly nauseous all of a sudden and I couldn't warn him.  
But he was Felix and I had a hunch that he was psychic.   
I had a vague feeling of being wrestled to the toilet before I vomited.   
It felt good, amazing really. I had come to associate throwing up with a feeling of release, and that was what it was. It felt like I was releasing negativity from my body.   
I knew that Felix was holding my hair away from my face as I gagged. His warm hands burned into my forehead.   
I had no idea how long I spent getting sick, but at some point I was moved back into our room and changed into a different pair of clothes. I didn't know if I had thrown up on myself or if I was just really sweaty from retching.  
"We've got to get you to eat something," Felix said, his voice far away.   
I probably just stood there and stared at him blankly. I wasn't sure.   
I forced myself to speak.   
"'M tired," I whispered, "Let me sleep."   
I found myself staring into his worried green eyes, but I wasn't really looking.  
He brushed hair back from my still sweaty forehead and smiled slightly.   
"You need to eat first, darling," he murmured, "Then you can sleep, okay? I'll even cancel your session today."   
I must have given him a look of agreement because he was sitting me in a chair at a little table in our room.  
He set a plate of eggs in front of me.   
"I'll feed you too," he said, a trace of humor in his voice.   
He picked up the fork and scooped up some eggs before putting it to my mouth.   
I had to work hard to open it and bite down, but I did.   
I felt like I was going to be sick again by the time I had finished most of it and Felix seemed to know.   
"Go get some rest," he sighed softly, kissing my forehead.   
I ended up in my bed, not entirely sure how I had managed to cross the room.   
Once laying down again, I lost the strength that I had had while standing and sitting.  
It was forced out of me and replaced by words that hurled themselves against my body, trying to get out.   
I was exhausted. Moving had taken so much strength and energy that I hadn't had in the first place.   
When I closed my eyes, my mind only fought harder against me.  
Painful memories and images surfaced, beating against my eyelids.   
Kissing Louis, seeing him kiss Eleanor, having sex with him, hearing him mutter "I love you, El,", loving him so impossibly much.   
Bright blue eyes that had broken my heart into little pieces flashed into my mind and broke it again.   
"I love you, El, I love you, El, I love you, El," was on repeat. What had at the time seemed to be a blissed-out, sleepy sentence was mocking and sharp.   
"Sh, don't cry, love, it's okay," a different voice murmured, too deep to be Louis.   
Felix wiped at my cheeks and I hadn't even realized that I had been crying.   
He rolled me over so that I was tucked into his chest, safe and warm.   
I spent the rest of the day like that, huddled against him.   
Exhaustion finally overtook me and I fell asleep.   
When I woke up, it was bright outside, but Felix was still asleep.  
I snorted at his messy blonde hair.   
I was thinking clearly again, but a few grey wisps clung to my mind as a reminder.   
I ran my fingers through my own hair before shuffling down to get breakfast. I wasn't hungry at all, a side effect from the day before, but I knew that I had too.   
Tiana was there as well.  
I really liked her; I could relate to her easily.   
I sat down across from her and shared a sympathetic grimace at our food.   
"Felix told me that you were in bed all day yesterday," she commented.   
I shrugged. I still didn't really feel like talking.   
"Just one of those days," I said.   
Tiana nodded.   
"I get out next week," she commented.   
"Really?" I asked.   
"Yeah," she replied, grinning, "And I really think I'm ready, too. I've got a really good therapist set up for me and I think I've really learned how to control myself."   
I let myself wonder what it would be like when I left. Then I decided that that was a really bad idea.   
"I'm happy for you," I said honestly.  
Felix wandered in, rubbing his eyes and smiling when he spotted us. He sat down next to me and immediatly wrapped his arm around my waist. I leaned my head on his shoulder.   
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly as Tiana got up and waved goodbye.   
I shrugged.   
"Better than yesterday," I sighed.   
"You got sick," he said.  
He knew that I didn't really always remember what exactly happened on days like that.  
"I know. It felt good," I said, my tone mildly defensive.   
"You know that you need to stop looking at throwing up positively and you need to associate it with the negatives," he chastised.   
I scowled at him.   
"You're not my fucking therapist!" I snapped childishly and dropped my silverware onto my plate with a clatter.  
Felix eyed me warily. He knew that it took a few days for my mind to balance itself out and that my mood swings could be extreme sometimes.   
"Relax, Harry. I'm just trying to help," he said gently.   
"I don't want your bloody help," I muttered under my breath.   
"You might not want it, but you need it," he teased lightly, picking up my plate and getting rid of it for me.   
"Felix knows best," I retorted.   
"Exactly," he agreed, "Now we are doing to go work out because you have a lot of pent-up energy."  
I had a feeling that he had gleaned that bit of information from the way I had been slightly jittery while eating.   
It was true, the day in bed had built up a lot of energy inside of me, even though I had felt like I had none.   
I changed into shorts and a tank top and walked with him to the gym.   
I'd gotten a bit of muscle and stamina. It was still much harder than it should have been, but it wasn't quite as bad.   
I all but attacked Felix, slamming my fists into the padded blocks strapped to his hands.  
I didn't want to stop. Energy flowed through my body and negativity trickled out with my sweat.   
"Take a break, popstar, before you put a hole in these pad things," Felix ordered.  
I obeyed, only then realizing how out of breath I was. My arm muscles were on fire and they almost itched from exhaustion.   
"I want to keep going," I panted after a few moments, "I want to run for a bit."  
We'd mainly stuck to boxing, as I was used to it. I'd run occasionally, but I grew tired quickly.   
Felix shrugged.  
"I'll be on that machine a few feet away if you need me," he said, "You've still got fifteen minutes."  
I nodded and hopped on the treadmill. I started quickly and increased the pace to a run after a few minutes.   
I needed to get rid of all the energy inside of me.   
I knew that the burning desire to cut only increased when I had built-up energy. I needed a way to release it and I had always let it out through cutting.   
My lungs burned as I gasped for air, but it felt good to force my body to the extreme.   
I increased the incline and the pace until I was all but sprinting and the pain in my body felt good.   
Finally, I felt the machine slow down and I noticed Felix with his hand on the buttons.   
He looked at me with a smirk on his face.   
"Planning to go till you collapse?" he asked, handing me a towel.  
Sweat dripped down my face and I realized as I stepped off shakily just how hard I had pushed myself.  
"Felt good," I gasped, pouring water into my mouth.   
He ended up carrying me on his back to our room because my legs were so shaky and exhausted that I could hardly walked.   
I ended up showering sitting down, but I didn't care.   
I felt good. 

 

Louis's POV

Anne didn't stay for very long, just for a few hours. I was sad to say goodbye, but I was slightly eager.   
There was a new bottle of vodka with my name on it.   
I was only a few sips into it when somebody knocked. I figured that it was one of the boys and not Anne returning.   
"Go away!" I yelled.  
"C'mon, Lou, open up. I really need to talk to you," Liam begged.  
"Fuck off," I snapped.   
"Louis, I own a key. I'm going to come in anyways," he said dryly.  
I stayed silent until he cursed and opened the door himself.   
He rolled his eyes at the bottle in front of me. He picked it up and closed it, much to my snarls of protest.   
"You're not drinking any more," he said.   
I raised my eyebrows.   
"You, my friend, have no say in that. I can do whatever I want," I said.   
"I can't really stop you, you're right," he agreed.  
I eyed him warily.   
"But I can force you into rehab with claims that you're an alcoholic, which is true," he said sternly.   
"I'm not an alcoholic," I snorted, finding the notion amusing.   
"When was the last night that you didn't drink at all?" he challanged.   
I had to think about it.   
"Maybe like a week and a half ago? I don't know. It doesn't prove anything. I just like drinking," I said.  
"Could you stop drinking right now?" he asked.   
"Yes!" I snapped, "Of course I can!"   
"Prove it. Come sit with me and prove that you don't need it," Liam ordered.  
I wanted to take the vodka and hide in Harry's room with it, but I figured that that would only reinforce his point.   
"Fine," I said.   
We watched some movie that I wasn't paying attention too.   
Familiar feelings of pain and want and confusion filled me after an hour and I desperately wanted to block them out.   
That's why I needed to drink; I needed to forget about all the emotions that Harry put me through.   
My hands started to twitch and I fidgeted next to Liam. I watched him eye me out of the corner of my eye and I clenched my jaw.  
I was going to prove that I didn't need the alcohol.  
But I did! Liam couldn't possibly understand how overwhelmed I felt and how alcohol was the only way to help.   
I took a shaky breath and sat on my hands to keep them from twitching.   
It wasn't not drinking that was bad, it was knowing that it was only a few yards away, tempting me.   
"Christ," I hissed under my breath.   
The few mouthfuls that I had had did nothing.   
Something in me snapped after an hour and a half and I bolted off the couch, grabbing at the bottle desperately.   
Liam watched, his mouth pulled back in disgust, as I drank.   
I put the vodka down with a gasp. It hadn't settled in, but I knew that it would.   
"You're addicted, Lou. It needs to stop," Liam said sadly.   
"Not addicted!" I slurred, which didn't exactly help my case.   
"You couldn't go two hours without it, Louis!" he barked, "This needs to stop before it gets any worse!"   
"You don' get it, Li," I growled, my tongue heavy as the alcohol started to affect me, "It's the only way to forget all these emotions."  
He gave me an exasperated look.  
"What about actually talking to somebody?" he asked.  
"'M not gonna go see a fucking doctor. 'M not crazy. 'M not Harry," I muttered, taking another drink and sighing as it burned down my throat.   
"Louis, you need to. You're not doing well and you know it. I'm not going to be gentle anymore. I'm going to take all of the alcohol out of here and I will take you to talk to somebody," he said sternly.  
I barked a laugh, but it was high-pitched and sarcastic sounding.  
I walked towards him, swaying slightly. I poked his nose and leaned in close.  
"You won' do anythin' got it?" I hissed, "You're not gonna take anything away from me and 'm not gonna to anybody."   
Liam pushed me back and I stumbled back against the table.   
"And, we are going to find somebody to stay with you. You can't live by yourself when you're like this," he continued.   
I seethed.  
"I don' need a fucking babysitter! I'm not like a kid or something!" I snarled.   
"Somebody needs to make sure you don't hurt yourself and you don't drink. I don't know if it'll be me or Zayn or Niall or Eleanor or maybe you can go live with your mum, I don't know. But you can't be by yourself," he said calmly, picking up the bottle of vodka and examining it.  
I growled, furious.   
"Gimme that!" I demanded, swiping at the bottle.   
"No," he said.   
He rummaged through the other cabinets and produced any alcohol he could find.  
"I'm taking these. You're going to go to bed and we'll talk in the morning," he said easily.   
I decided that I hated nobody more than Liam Payne right in that moment.  
"I need that!" I screeched, "Don't you dare!"  
"I'm sure you'll be alright," he called, walking from the room with a few of the bottles.   
I grabbed one and ran to Harry's room to stash it in a drawer.   
Raspberry liquor. It was something Harry had already had, because I didn't remember buying it. I wanted it, but I knew that I had to save it.   
I stumbled back out of the room.  
"Fuck you," I yelled down the hallway to Liam.  
"Go to bed, Louis!" he replied.  
So I did.


	18. Chapter 18

Louis's POV

I woke up screaming.   
I was crying too, and gasping for air and I had to shove my hand over my mouth to quit screaming.   
I tensed, praying that Liam hadn't heard.   
He was staying with me for the time being, sleeping in Harry's extra bedroom. I was beyond furious about him playing babysitter.   
After a few moments of silence, I relaxed, concluding that I hadn't woken him up.   
My throat felt raw and it stung when I swallowed. I'd screamed pretty loudly and I was surprised that he hadn't heard.   
I stumbled out of bed, wiping stray tears from my face, and yanked open a drawer.   
I dug around the clothes inside until my hand closed on the bottle of raspberry liquor that I had hidden.  
I eyed it sadly; it was already half-empty. But I needed the haze of alcohol to cloud my mind, so I opened it and swallowed frantically.   
It was the same dream that haunted me almost every time that I slept. It was partly why I got so little sleep.   
It was really just the memory of Harry when he had tried to kill himself, but none of the other boys were there.   
I would rush to his side and feel for a pulse, my hands getting stained with the blood that gushed from his wrists. Pills that had scattered when he had overdosed would dig into my knees.   
In the dream, I would take off my shirt and wrap it around his wrists, like Liam had done.   
Unlike what had actually happened, Harry would wake up.   
He would look at me, his eyes sharp, yet unfocused and glassy.   
"All your fault, Louis. This is all your fault," he would hiss.   
Then his eyes would close and he would still.   
I would kneel there and shake him, screaming at him to wake up. I would scream and scream and scream until I eventually woke myself up.   
I let the emptied bottle of raspberry liquor slip from my hands and I laid down on the carpet. It was rough against my cheek. I closed my eyes.   
I wasn't nearly drunk enough as I wanted to be. I was building up a tolerance to alcohol and I was irritated. I hated myself for being weak and only leaving half of the bottle left.   
I'd needed a drink badly the night before, when Liam and I had gotten into another shouting match over therapy.   
I didn't think that I needed it, the therapy. I didn't want to talk to anybody. I understood myself well enough; I didn't need some stranger telling me that my mind was fucked up.   
I didn't even really think much was wrong. Sure, it wasn't necessarily healthy to drink so much, but it was ridiculous to label me as an alcoholic. So what if I was an insomniac as well? Not everybody needed a lot of sleep to function.   
I would admit that I was a bit depressed, but I still didn't think it was anything therapy-worthy. Therapy was for people who actually needed it, like Harry. I didn't need it.   
I pulled myself into a sitting position, calmly waiting for the room to stop spinning. I crawled over to Harry's desk and pulled out a notebook and a pen.   
I moved over to his bed and leaned against it. I tore out a piece of paper and looked at it.   
Eleanor had suggested that I write to Harry a while back, and I had. I didn't think that it helped any, but I still did it. I had about fifteen seperate letters, ranging from two words to several pages.   
The two worded one said a simple 'fuck you'. I had written it while completely smashed.   
I sighed. I really wasn't very drunk. I had a buzz and I couldn't really see very straight, but it wasn't the kind of drunk where I could forget everything.   
I shut my eyes tightly and clenched the pen in my hand.   
Why did I have to resort to writing to somebody that would never read the letters? Why couldn't I talk to him face to face?  
I had shut myself in Harry's room and cried when Liam told me that Harry was talking to him and the other two boys.   
I had simply gotten so angry that I had seen red when Liam had told me that Harry was allowing Nick fucking Grimshaw to visit him too.  
It just wasn't fair!  
I threw the pen at the wall with a muffled shout.   
I knew that Harry liked Nick, adored him really, and that they were quite close. But why did Nick get to see him and I couldn't?   
I gritted my teeth and picked up the pen. I didn't write at first, I just dug the pen into the paper until I made a hole.   
Then I suddenly felt like I had so much to say. My pen flew across the paper and it could hardly keep up with my thoughts.   
I knew that my handwriting had to be atrocious. I was somewhat drunk and I was writing quickly, but it wasn't like Harry would ever bother to speak to me or read what I wrote to him.   
I stared at the pages of writing when I finished. I wasn't sure what I had said, really.   
I set the notebook and pen down next to me and pulled my knees to my chest.   
I rocked back and forth slowly, trying to lull myself into relaxation. I was exhausted and we had an interview to do in the morning.   
The door swung open and I looked up at the outline of Liam. I blinked as he turned on the light.   
"You're awake," he commented, sounding disappointed.   
"Yeah. Did I wake you up?" I asked.   
I had screamed loudly but it had been a while since then. Liam would have immediatly rushed to check on me if he had heard.   
"No. I just needed a wee and I just wanted to see if you were up," he explained.  
He noticed the empty raspberry liquor bottle on the floor and he groaned.   
"Lou," he sighed, "You aren't supposed to be drinking."  
"I never agreed to that," I snapped.   
I subtly shoved the letter that I had just written under the bed, where Liam couldn't see.   
"Do you have anything else hidden?" he asked, running his hand through his short hair.   
"No. That was it. But seriously, why the hell would I tell you even if I did?" I snorted.  
He shrugged and walked over to sit next to me.   
"Why are you awake?" he asked.   
I debated about telling the truth or just snapping some retort at him.   
"Woke up from that fucking dream," I sighed, pulling my knees closer, "I'm surprised that I didn't wake you. I screamed pretty loudly."   
Liam winced in sympathy.   
"We could get you something to help you sleep better and keep you from dreaming about that," he suggested.   
I glared at him.  
"I'm fine, Liam. I don't need any fucking medication," I growled.   
"You aren't fine," he said warily, "'Fine' isn't waking up screaming and crying every night. 'Fine' isn't getting drunk so often."   
Normally, I would have snapped back at him, but I was so tired that I couldn't bring myself to argue.   
"C'mon, we should get you back to sleep," he suggested.  
Liam stood, then helped me stand. I wobbled a bit, not entirely sober, and crawled into the bed.   
He sat down on the edge and pulled a blanket over me.   
"I'm not tired," I protested, but the yawn I gave next was a clear indication that I had lied.   
Liam snorted softly and ran his hand through my hair. It felt good and I felt my eyes shut involuntarily.   
"You're exhausted, Lou. Just sleep, okay?" he murmured.   
"Liam?" I asked.   
"Yeah?" he replied.   
"Will you stay with me? Like, until I'm asleep?" I asked.  
"'Course," he said.   
I fell asleep pretty quickly.   
When I next woke up, I was screaming again, but it was light outside.   
"You're okay, Lou," Liam said, shushing me.   
He must have fallen asleep when I had, I realized. He had stayed with me.   
I nodded, still shaky from the dream. My entire body craved alcohol to numb the pain I felt.   
"Liam, I need something," I mumbled, trying to wriggle out of his arms.   
"There's nothing for you to drink, Louis. You need to learn how to deal with it yourself," he said sternly.   
"You don't get it. I need it, I really need it," I gasped, starting to panic.   
It was all too much and I felt myself start to get overwhelmed. I swore that I could still feel the blood on my hands from Harry's body and his voice echoed in my mind.  
"All your fault."  
"All your fault."  
"Allyourfaultallyourfaultallyourfault!"   
I whined desperately, fighting against Liam. I needed to forget. I needed to not feel the horrible pain and guilt that I felt. The guilt was the worst. It consumed me, threatening to take me over.   
"Dammit, Louis!" Liam snarled, shoving me on to my back and pinning me down, "Grow the fuck up and deal with it like the rest of us are! Don't ruin yourself like Harry did!"   
I flinched and stilled. I allowed my eyes to squeeze shut and I tried to sink into the mattress.   
Liam was mad at me for drinking so much, everybody was.   
Another reason to feel guilty.   
"Lou, Louis, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get angry," he said gently.   
I didn't open my eyes.   
"Come on, Louis," he coaxed, "I'm sorry."  
I still didn't move.   
Liam sighed and let go of me.   
"Be ready in an hour," he said, before leaving the room.   
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling for forty-five minutes.   
Liam poked his head in eventually.   
"Christ, Louis, you haven't gotten up yet? We need to leave in fifteen minutes!" he cried.   
"I'm not going," I replied.   
"You have to go, Lou, you know that. Now get up! We can't be late!" he urged.   
"I'm not going," I repeated, turning onto my side to face the wall.   
"We don't have time for this. Get up, Louis! You can't miss another interview! I know you don't like it, but we have to go!" Liam barked.   
"No," I said coldly.   
He pulled on my shoulder until I was on my back again.   
"Would you quit acting like a child for once?" he snapped.   
I got out of bed and slammed the door to the toilet before locking myself inside.   
I made a half-hearted attempt at fixing my hair. I really looked terrible. My hair stuck up in all directions, my face was pale with exhaustion, my eyes were bloodshot and they had dark marks under them from lack of sleep, and I had a slight beard from neglecting shaving.   
I stayed in the toilet for a while just to freak Liam out before returning to Harry's room to get dressed.   
I pulled on a pair of track pants and a random shirt. I really didn't care what I looked like.   
I grabbed an apple on the way out.   
When we arrived, Lou sighed when she saw me.   
"You couldn't have made a bit more of an effort with yourself?" she asked.   
"I don't want to be here," I growled.   
"That's apparent. Sit down," she ordered.   
I did. She covered my face with makeup, a vain attempt to hide how tired I was. She tried to make my hair look artfully messy, but there wasn't much that she could do.   
"I thought that Harry was hard to fix before an interview," she commented absently, "Actually, I think he was harder than you, just because I had to try and make him look less skinny."  
I jerked away from her and jumped off of the chair. I backed up to the corner of the room where I leaned against the wall and glared at her.   
Lou knew what she had done wrong and she looked guilty.   
It was an unspoken rule that people didn't talk about Harry around me, especially when commenting about how bad he had been.   
I didn't like being reminded of how stupid and naive I had been. I hadn't noticed how thin he was until he had told me and I hadn't seen the cuts and scars all over his body.   
Liam was next in Lou's chair and I got to sulk in the corner.   
Most of the interview was a blur. I didn't speak unless I was directly spoken too and I spent the majority of the time looking at my feet.   
"So how's Harry? You've been visiting him, right, Louis?" the interviewer asked.  
I froze. Instinct told me to lash out and snap at her. Common sense told me to relax.   
"He's good," I gritted out, "Getting better."   
I completely ignored the second half of her question. I clenched the arm of the sofa we were sat on.   
The boys sent me pleading looks, begging me not to snap.   
"Can you visit him often? Or is it just once and a while?" she asked.   
She was looking at me, but Liam jumped in, "Just once a week. I think as time passes, we'll be able to visit more, but as of right now, just once a week."  
I was seeing red. I hated talking about Harry in the first place and having to talk about visiting him when I couldn't was downright cruel.   
"It must be so nice seeing you boys. Everyone's been talking about how close he seems with his roommate, though. It's practically the next Larry Stylinson," she chuckled.   
Alright. Visiting Harry, Felix, and Larry all at the same time. Three subjects that I absolutely hated.   
I could have sworn that she knew exactly what buttons to push because I was about to jump out of my seat and strangle her.   
It must have showed on my face because Niall, who was sat next to me, wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed hard.   
"Felix? Yeah, he's good to Harry; they're quite close," Liam said absently, glancing at me.   
"Relax, Lou," Niall hissed in my ear, "Just calm down."   
I need a drink so badly that my hands shook. I needed to shut off the anger that coursed through my body.   
The rest of the interview went by in a sea of red-hot anger. After we walked off, I stormed into a toilet and yelled, my hands over my mouth muffling the noise.   
The boys knew to leave me be. If anybody came close to me, I would probably hit them.  
I stayed in the loo for a good half hour before I decided that I had calmed down enough.   
"I'm going to my place," I growled once Liam and I had gotten into my car.   
"Why?" he asked.   
"Because I haven't been there in two and a half months," I snapped, "I'll take you to yours."   
Liam started to protest, but the dark glare that I shot him shut him up.   
Once I got to my place, I felt weird walking inside of it. Harry's flat had become my home and it was strange to remember that I had my own place.   
It had gotten a bit dusty, but that was really it. I had gotten all of my mail forwarded to Harry's flat.   
I had a motive for coming back.   
I went into the kitchen and opened a cupboard and grinned at the bottles inside.   
There was wine, vodka, liquor, tequila, rum, everything that I craved. I knew that I had beer in the fridge as well.   
I took the vodka; it had become a favorite of mine to get drunk with.   
I didn't bother with a glass. I never did. My goal was to get smashed and to forget.   
Soon, I was seated on the floor, grinning lazily at the vodka next to me. The world swirled pleasantly about me.   
I could hold my alcohol. Throwing up was never a problem for me.   
I drank until I knew that it would be dangerous to drink more. I staggered out of the kitchen to my sofa and collapsed on it.   
My phone rang and I answered it.   
"Wassit?" I slurred.  
"Hey, babe," Eleanor said.   
"Hi," I said, "Wan' somethin'?"  
"Are you drunk, Louis? It's the middle of the afternoon!" she cried.   
"'S nice being drunk. You forget everythin'," I muttered.   
"I'll call back when you're sober," she sighed, sounding irritated and disappointed, "Or maybe I won't. God knows you never answer anyways."  
"M'kay," I said, happy that I had alcohol in my system.   
She hung up and I hummed lazily, relaxed and content for once.  
Harry who?

 

Harry's POV

"I asked Liam about Louis when he visited," I said quietly to Aysiah.   
She nodded in approval.  
"You're talking to them?" she asked.   
"Yeah," I replied.   
"What did Liam say about Louis?" she asked.   
"That he isn't doing well and that he's angry a lot," I said, my chest constricting with guilt.   
"How would you feel if you were in his position?" Aysiah asked.   
"I'd probably feel the same way," I mumbled.  
"Do you think you'll want to talk to him soon?" she asked.   
I shook my head violently.   
"No," I said.   
"Why?" Aysiah urged.  
"I don't know. I'm so scared of how much it'll hurt seeing him. He knows how I feel about him now and knowing he knows and doesn't feel the same way hurts enough without having to see it on his face. And I'm scared of falling even more in love with him. He's so beautiful and he's so amazing," I sighed.   
"But you'll have to see him eventually," she added.   
"I know. Everyone says that. I just can't see him right now. I'm not ready," I protested.   
Aysiah nodded.  
"Alright. That's all the time for today, then," she said.  
I got up and waited for her to ask the question that she always did.   
"Do you still want to die?" she asked, on cue.  
I hesitated just slightly before nodding.   
She noticed the tiny pause and she smiled before gesturing for me to leave.   
I walked back to my room slowly, thinking.  
Did I want to die? My heart ached to a point of excruciating pain just thinking about how much I loved Louis. But the urge to die just wasn't as strong. It was still there, but not quite so much.   
I bit my lip in thought. What had changed?   
As I opened the door and all but fell on top of Felix in his bed, I knew that it was because of him.   
"You make me not want to kill myself," I murmured, looking over his shoulder at whatever book he was reading.   
"That's good," he said.   
"My wrists are itching," I complained.  
With all of my thinking about suicide, I craved a razor. Badly.   
He frowned and looked up at me.   
I snorted at his blonde hair falling into his face and I pushed it back for him.   
He smiled up at me.   
And just like that, the itching in my wrists lessened.   
"You really do make me so much happier," I sighed, laying down and pressing my face into his neck.   
"I feel useful," he commented.   
"Good, I think," I replied, "It's always nice to feel useful."  
"Yeah, it is," he sighed, kissing my hair, "How was talking to Aysiah."  
"Alright. We talked about Louis a lot. I miss him. Am I doing the right thing by shutting him out?" I asked.   
Felix was quiet and I shifted uneasily.   
"Are you shutting him out because you're trying to get over him?" he asked.   
"I don't know. Maybe. I don't think I'll ever get over him though. He's so perfect. He's just so beautiful and funny and he's got the best smile and it's so easy to see why I fell in love with him," I said sadly.   
Felix was quiet again and I looked up to see him gnawing at his lip.   
"You okay?" I asked.  
"Yeah. I'm fine," he replied.   
He wouldn't meet my eyes when he said that. I decided to let it go.   
"But, really," I sighed, squeezing against him tighter, "He's got the most brilliant blue eyes and he's so tiny next to me and it's adorable. He used to always make me laugh and he used to know me better than anybody. Then I fell in love so much that I just couldn't be like that with him, you know?"   
"I know," Felix muttered, "Very well."  
I sighed and shifted even closer.   
"You're amazing," I purred as he ran his fingers through my hair, tugging gently.   
"So I've been told," he joked, "You hungry at all?"  
"I don't want to eat," I replied.   
"I didn't ask if you wanted to eat. I asked if you were hungry," he chastised.   
"Yeah," I admitted.   
"Alright. Lets get you some food, you twig," he said, rolling away from me.  
I whined and tried to grab at his shirt to pull him back to me, but he ducked away and gave me a small half-smile.   
As we walked down to get food, I wrapped my arm around his waist. Instead of pulling me close like he normally did, he tensed and pulled my arm off of him.   
He didn't explain why, but the entire time I ate, he seemed quiet.   
"Really, Felix, are you okay?" I asked, worried.   
"I'm perfectly fine, Harry. Just lost in my own thoughts," he explained.   
"Thinking about me?" I teased, poking him with my spoon.   
"I always think about you," he replied, smiling at me.   
But his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

Louis's POV 

I spent three days in my own place, constantly drunk.   
I woke up with God-awful hangovers, but I'd reach for the closest bottle and I would return to a blissfully fuzzy state.   
Eleanor never called.   
I found that I really didn't care.   
Eventually, I knew that I had to stop.   
I was curled up in my own bed and staring wistfully at an empty bottle on the floor, urging it to refill itself.   
It felt funny to be in my bed. I was so used to Harry's. My mattress seemed a little too soft compared to his. My covers weren't like his.   
I was homesick for somebody else's bed, honestly.   
I staggered around, searching for a glass of water to down a couple of pills with.   
My head throbbed and my tongue felt dry and heavy in my mouth. My body felt tired and achy.   
Three days of being perpetually drunk hadn't really been the healthiest choice.   
I sighed and rested my forehead on the table, nearly knocking the glass of water over.   
I really wanted a drink.   
I shuffled out of the kitchen and flopped down on the sofa. When I looked up, my eyes fell on a picture of Harry and I.   
It was taken the day we moved into our flat together. He was grinning like a maniac, but he wasn't looking at the camera.   
He was looking at me. The adoration in his eyes was so clear that I felt sick for not seeing it.   
Liam had said that he guessed that Harry had fallen in love with me a little over a year before he tried to kill himself.   
He wouldn't have been in love with me in the picture, then. Or maybe he had and he just hadn't realized it.   
I smiled when I realized that he was wearing my jumper and I was wearing his track pants. I still had them somewhere, but I'd worn them so much that they were kind of worn out.   
That had originally been his, but I had worn them once and decided that they would be mine.   
They reminded me of Harry- soft and warm and comfortable.   
I wanted that Harry back. I didn't like the Harry that he had become. He wasn't soft, his bones were sharp and painful. He wasn't warm, his skin was cold when I touched it because his body didn't have the fat or energy to keep itself warm. He wasn't comfortable. I hadn't rested my head on his shoulder or sat on his lap in months. I wasn't comfortable around him. I felt like a stranger.   
I set the picture down and sighed.   
I loved Harry with all my heart, but I wasn't in love with him. I wished that I could be so that we both didn't have to hurt so badly.   
Love really fucking sucked.   
I had lost my best mate because of it.   
I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands and winced at how tired and sore they were.   
I knew that the boys were right when they said that I was destroying myself, but I couldn't help it. I needed to block out the overwhelming feelings that threatened to take over me.   
I wondered if I had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.   
It made sense.   
I shook my head. I was fine. I was going through a bad time, but I was fine. I didn't need therapy or help or rehab or whatever the fuck everyone wanted for me.   
I angrily threw the now-empty glass of water to the floor. I was a bit disappointed when it didn't break.   
Cursing, I moved back to my bedroom and pulled my laptop over to me.   
I browsed the self-harm and eating disorder tags of Tumblr quite often, desperate to figure out why Harry did that to himself.   
Seeing all the pictures of people covered in cuts and scars made me feel sick.   
What made me come close to almost throwing up was when I saw a picture of Eleanor and I saying 'Seeing pictures of Elounor gave me the strength to not eat today. I will stop at nothing to get a tiny waist like hers.'  
It disgusted me, to be honest. Yeah, Eleanor was thin, but people were actually starving themselves to look like her? Eleanor actually ate a lot but her metabolism was fast, so she stayed thin. If people wanted to be like her, they wouldn't do such a fucked up thing to themselves!   
I wanted to reach through the screen and shake whoever had created the post. I wanted to yell at them, shout at them how stupid they were being.  
Hadn't they seen how negative starving themselves could be? Hadn't they seen what had happened to Harry?  
I was once again faced with the frustrating question of why Harry had turned to eating disorders.   
He had said in his letter that he had never really meant to starve himself and that throwing up had been a kind of release.   
I didn't understand how he 'hadn't meant' to starve himself. It didn't make sense.   
Just thinking about bulimia made me feel sick with disbelief. I had no idea how he liked the way throwing up made him feel. It was a release, yeah, but a release of partially-digested food.   
I sighed and continued to scroll through the tag when something caught my eye.   
Someone had taken a screenshot of Harry's video where he had held up his wrists to the camera and outlined each scar in black. It was an absolute mess of black lines, which only emphasized just how many he had.   
The caption read, 'If only these were just tattoos...'  
I sighed. I wished more than anything that the lines on his wrists and the rest of his body were ink and not scars.   
I stared at the screen for a long time before picking up my phone and calling Zayn.  
"You alright, Lou?" he asked, sounding surprised.   
I'd completely ignored any effort at contact for three days. He had every right to be surprised.   
"I want to get a tattoo. Will you come with me?" I asked.   
He hesitated before asking, "Are you sober?"  
"No, I'm completely smashed. Yes, I'm sober," I snapped, "Do I fucking sound drunk to you?"  
"I was just making sure, Lou. I don't want you waking up with a hangover to find you'd gotten a large tattoo of a beer bottle or something, seeing as that's the only thing you care about anymore," he snarled.   
His words stung like a slap to my face and I considered hanging up.   
I knew that he was only saying what everyone else was afraid to. That was the part of Zayn that I loved and hated at the same time.   
Unexpectedly, I felt tears spring into my eyes and I blinked rapidly, sniffling.   
"Lou?" Zayn asked warily.  
"Yeah?" I replied, trying to hide the waver in my voice.  
"I'll come with you. Just give me like fifteen minutes, okay?" he said softly.   
"Okay," I said, equally as quietly.   
"Alright. I'll see you," he said gently.   
I didn't reply. I hung up and tossed my phone onto the bed, where I sat down and put my head in my hands.   
I knew that Zayn was right. The only thing that I cared about was getting drunk. It was the only way that I knew how to escape everything that haunted me.   
I had a hazy memory of Eleanor calling me while I was drunk.   
"You never answer anyways," she had said.  
I knew that it was true. I kept my phone off most of the time and I usually rejected calls when it was on.   
She was my fiancée and I hadn't talked to her more than five times in nearly three months.   
What really got under my skin was when I realized that I didn't really care. I only cared about the fucking alcohol, didn't I? Just like Zayn had said.  
What the hell was wrong with me?  
I didn't care about my friends, I didn't care about my family, I didn't care about the fans; I didn't care about my fucking fiancée! I only cared about stupid bottles that were ruining me.   
I had a sudden urge to find my razor and hurt myself with it. I deserved it, didn't I? I deserved to hurt, just like I was hurting everyone else.   
I started to get up. When I looked up and across my room, I saw another picture of Harry and I. Just like that, the burning need to hurt myself drained away.   
We hadn't known that the picture had been taken until Niall showed it to us. I remembered what had happened with a rush of fondness.   
Harry had been talking to me about some shit hipster band that Nick had told him about. I'd eventually gotten irritated and put my hand over his mouth.   
He'd gotten the hint and he'd pulled me close, until I was nearly in his lap.   
"Nick's got nothing on you, babe," he'd murmured into my hair, laughing.   
He knew how much I hated Nick, and he loved to tease me about how 'jealous' I was. Really, I just thought Nick was a fucking prick and just wanted to get into Harry's pants.   
I'd pouted but I smiled at him a second later. I couldn't help it.   
Niall, or whoever had taken the picture had taken it right as we were smiling at each other. We honestly looked like a couple in love.   
Looking at the picture, I felt the familiar sensation of sickening guilt and confusion rise in my chest.   
About a year, Liam had said. The picture had been taken only a few months before Harry had tried to kill himself. He had loved me then. The loving look on his face was legitimate. Mine was just a simple smile at my best friend.   
I angrily threw the picture in its frame across the room, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the glass shattered.   
"Lou?" Zayn asked quietly from the doorway, scaring me.   
I turned around, blinking away tears that had built up. I forced a smile at him.  
"Thought I saw a spider," I said, the lie so obvious and badly told that Zayn snorted.   
He knew what that picture was. He had teased us mercilessly about being an 'adorable couple' and had chanted at us to kiss.   
I swallowed a lump in my throat when I realized that Harry really must have wanted us to kiss.   
It hadn't been a funny joke to him, but he had hidden it well.   
"Right. You ready to go?" he asked.   
I nodded, kicking miscellaneous items around on my floor until I found shoes to slip on.   
"You absolutely reek of alcohol," he commented once we were in his car.   
I couldn't bring myself to look at him, his earlier comment resurfacing in my mind.   
"Yeah," I said quietly, staring at my hands in my lap.   
My hangover headache started to intensify.   
"Why are you doing this to yourself, Lou?" he asked, his voice so soft that I had to strain to hear him.   
I tensed.   
"I'm not doing this right now, Zayn," I growled, my voice low and warning.   
"Then when the hell are you going to do this? When you're lying on you're bloody death bed with alcohol poisoning? With kidney failure? Is that when?" he shouted slamming his hands against the steering wheel.   
I flinched away.  
"Please, Zayn. I've got a headache. I don't want to talk about this," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut.   
He was angry, I knew that. I could feel the frustration radiating off of him.   
"You two are so similar, you know. You and Harry. You both live in your own worlds and you don't want to face things that are even the tiniest bit hard for you. He hid behind his cuts and his eating disorders and you're hiding behind you're fucking alcohol. When will you learn that maybe sometimes life sucks but you have to deal with it?" he snarled.   
I was squished against the door, as far away from him and his completely true words as possible.   
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to tell him that what he said wasn't true. I couldn't, though. He was so, so right because he was Zayn and Zayn was always right.   
I didn't say anything.   
My hands shook and my head throbbed and I craved a drink.   
"I know that you hate growing up, but I think that maybe it's time that you do," he sighed.   
Tears sprang to my eyes. How many times had I been told to grow up?   
I thought back to when I was a kid, when I thought that I was invincible and that the only thing I needed to worry about was how late my mum would let me stay up.   
What I would give to be young again. I wanted to feel the innocence of being a child. I wanted to hide behind my mum because she would always protect me from anything bad.   
But I couldn't hide behind my mum. She couldn't make Harry better. She couldn't erase the trauma of seeing him all but dead on his floor. She couldn't make him stop loving me.  
I bit my knuckle and stared stonily out of the window, struggling to keep my emotions in check.   
"You know that I'm right, Lou," Zayn said quietly, "And if you need help or somebody to talk to, you know that we'll get it for you. We understand how difficult this is for you, despite what you think."   
I felt trapped, like a caged animal. And like a caged animal, I could only lash out. I had to hide my fear and replace it with anger.   
"You don't know a fucking thing, Zayn. Nobody does. You're not me, okay? You have no idea what the hell I'm going through is like. Picture, fuck I don't know, Niall suddenly trying to fucking kill himself and all of a sudden, everyone's saying that it's because he's in love with you and you couldn't do a thing about it! You have no idea how helpless and hurt and confused and just fucking overwhelmed I feel! That's why I drink, okay? Because I can forget about it! It's like, when I'm sober, I've just got this huge weight on me all the time and I can't breath or move or fucking think! But when I drink, it goes away and I'm free!" I shouted.  
He smirked at me and I realized that I had basically admitted everything that he wanted me to.  
"Fuck you, Zayn," I spat, turning back to the window.  
I realized that we were in the parking lot of the tattoo parlor and I remembered why I was even with Zayn in the first place.   
"Love you, Lou," he snorted, but then his face softened, "I really do. You've got thousands of people who love you and are really worried about you."   
I rolled my eyes at him, retreating behind my mental walls. They were cracked walls, but they were walls.   
"What are you getting, anyways?" he asked as we walked in.   
I drew the design on my arm with my fingernail and he raised his eyebrows.  
"People are going to have a field day when they see that," he said.  
"I've found that I really don't care what people say anymore," I said, "I want it and I'm getting it."   
He shrugged and followed me as the tattoo artist waved me back.   
A while later, I was walking back out of the building with a white bandage over my stinging forearm.   
What I had gotten was basically a '#' symbol.  
It was bigger though, about an inch and a half by an inch and a half and it was halfway down my left forearm.   
It was slightly slanted, just like the actual symbol, and each line was slightly different in thickness. They were a bit jagged too. I'd told the man to just do it and not bother sketching it beforehand. I wanted the lines to be uneven and crooked.   
There was no question about what it was supposed to represent. If it was the right color instead of black ink, it would look exactly like four self-harm scars- two horizontal and two vertical.   
It was supposed to look like Harry's. The vertical ones were longer and thicker than the horizontal lines, just like his.   
I obviously hadn't wanted to get the many, many lines he had, so I had come up with the tattoo I had gotten.   
I liked it.   
The tattoo wasn't just lines, though. In tiny, tiny writing, so small that it would hardly show up in a picture, was the word 'Why?'.  
It was on the top left side of the little box that the intersecting lines made.   
I picked at the edge of the bandage, still irritated with Zayn.   
The drive back was silent and tense. I didn't say a word as I got out of his car.   
"Liam, Niall and I were thinking that we could all hang out tonight?" he called.   
I knew from his voice that he already knew what my answer would be.   
"I've already got plans," I muttered, just loudly enough so that he would hear.   
I slammed the door to my place so that I wouldn't have to hear him speed away.


	20. Chapter 20

Louis's POV

"Give me that, Zayn," I ordered, holding out my hand.   
He stared at me.   
It might have been because it was the first time I had spoken but it might have been because I was requesting one of his cigarettes.   
I didn't smoke. I thought it was disgusting and it smelled gross.   
The boys had been keeping careful watch of me, inviting me over to their different flats or houses every night. However sneaky they thought they might be, I knew that they were doing it to keep me away from alcohol.   
I had terrible withdrawal symptoms because of it. My head pounded worse than it had when I had had hangovers and I just felt disgusting over all. Plus, I was extremely irritable and the boys knew not to talk to me unless I spoke first. Even then, it was risky.   
I needed something to help me. I was beyond ready to snap, the intense emotions I felt swirled around inside of me and threatened to break out.   
Zayn always talked about how smoking calmed him and made him feel a bit fuzzier.  
I wanted to be calm and fuzzy desperately. It might not have been as good as getting drunk, but it would have to do until I could break away from this stupid prison.   
"You hate these, Lou," he said doubtfully.  
"I suddenly have had a change of heart," I drawled, "Just give me one for the love of God."  
"That's a terrible idea," Liam commented.   
"Who are you to judge what's a good idea and what's not? I want one," I snapped, "So just fucking give me one! It's not a big deal, Jesus Christ."   
Zayn and Liam exchanged a look. Niall just sat quietly and bit his lip.   
"I'm not going to get addicted to them or some shit, okay? Just one," I sighed, trying to shove down the unnecessary anger rising in my chest.   
But I couldn't help but add, "One addict is enough for this band."   
Zayn kept a blank mask on fairly well, but a brief flash of hurt passed through his eyes. I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty for it. All my guilt was geared towards Harry.   
"Louis!" Liam barked.   
I rolled my eyes at him.  
I knew that Zayn wanted to stop smoking and that it was a bit of a sore point for him but I couldn't help myself. I was a mess and misery loves company.   
"Whatever. It's true. Now give me one," I spat.   
Niall looked a little bit scared of the death glares Liam and I were giving each other, but I didn't really care.   
Zayn silently lit a cigarette and handed it to me. I smiled smugly.   
"Go smoke it outside, Lou," Liam ordered quietly.   
I shrugged and got up, making sure to close the sliding door to his balcony loudly.   
I leaned against the railing and took a slow breath in. I'd smoked before, mostly while drunk, so I didn't choke when I inhaled.   
I exhaled, watching the steady stream of smoke blow past my lips.   
It burned my throat, just like strong alcohol did. It burned my lungs too and I decided that I liked the feeling. It felt like being burned alive and disturbingly enough, I liked it.   
I looked over the railing and I contemplated just jumping. It was a messy way to go, but I really didn't care. I wouldn't be the ones cleaning my brains off of the streets. But then again, it would probably hurt for a few seconds before I actually died.   
Christ, smoking made me really morbid.   
I studied the still-healing skin of my tattoo. I'd posted a picture of it on Instagram and like I'd figured, people caught on to the meaning pretty quickly and freaked out.   
Like I had told Zayn, I had discovered after Harry's attempt at suicide that I really didn't care what people said about me. I didn't care if they said I was gay or fat or a bad singer.   
I just didn't care.   
I stayed on the balcony long after I had to snuff out the cigarette.   
It did make me feel a little calmer and the raging emotions weren't so wild. A light fuzziness covered them, but didn't completely block them out.   
It was May, but it was still a bit cold. I didn't care. I stood outside in a tshirt and jeans and let the cool air ruffle my hair as it blew past.  
"Lou?" Niall asked as he slid outside, "You ever gonna come back inside?"   
I shrugged.  
"Maybe I'll stay out here forever," I said softly, "Maybe I'll just disappear eventually if I stay out here long enough."  
He stared at me, blue eyes wide.   
"D'ya ever think about killing yourself?" he asked, his voice so full of worry that it made my heart squeeze.   
I had to answer him honestly though.   
"Yeah, I do. I just want to be somewhere where it doesn't hurt like this just to live," I sighed, "I don't know if I want to die, exactly. I just want to disappear."   
Niall frowned at me, then frowned at the ashes at my feet that the cigarette had become.   
"I think about it too, you know," he admitted hesitantly, "Not killing myself, but just the thought of suicide. Like what has to go through somebody's head in order to do that."  
"Well, first you have to fall in love with somebody who's never going to love you back," I said dryly.   
"Lou," Niall sighed, "That wasn't the whole reason."  
I looked at him sharply.   
"Was he in love with somebody else too? Like Eleanor or something? Christ, what a plot twist," I sneered.   
"That's not what I meant," he said, "I mean, I dunno, even though the cutting and the purging made him feel good for a little while, they increased the intensity of his depression in the long run. You could have loved him just like he wanted but he would have snapped eventually. He's severely depressed, Lou, and it isn't just because of you. It got worse and worse as time went on until loving you was only a small factor."  
"But it was still a factor, Ni, and I still could have helped. Christ, you could have done something! You knew what was going on way before I did and you never did a fucking thing to help him!" I snarled, the calming effect from the smoke leaving my body.   
"I know, Louis, believe it or not! We all feel guilty too!" he snapped, "You aren't the only one!"  
"I am the only one that he was in love with," I said quietly, looking out over the balcony, "I'm the only one who never knew. I'm the only one that could have prevented this whole thing entirely. I'm the one that's got all these questions that nobody can or will answer."   
He abrubtly threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. I struggled for a moment before sinking into the comforting embrace.  
"You couldn't have faked it, Lou. He would have known that you were acting," he sighed as he pulled away.   
"I could have made myself love him," I said firmly.   
Niall raised his eyebrows.   
"Can you make yourself love me?" he asked.  
I hesitated.   
"You're...you're not Harry, Ni. I think I could have done it, I really do," I muttered.   
"You can't just force yourself to do that, Louis. The heart doesn't work like that," he replied.  
"Maybe mine does!" I growled stubbornly, "I could have changed this if I had known, Niall. I just know I could have."   
Suddenly, Niall tugged me towards him and kissed me. I was frozen by surprise and he raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
"Jesus Christ, Niall! What the fuck was that for?" I yelped, wiping spit off of my mouth.   
He stared at me steadily.   
"I'm in love with you, Louis, alright? I love you with all of my heart," he said, "I just couldn't take hiding it anymore."   
I backed up.   
"What the hell are you on about?" I asked, panicking, "I've got a fiancée! I can't love you, not with everything like it is! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? You can't just kiss me!"  
Niall suddenly snorted, his mouth quirking into a smile.  
"I was acting, Lou. I love you, mate, but not like that," he explained.  
I stared at him like he had grown multiple heads.   
"Then what the fuck was that?" I yelped.  
"That, was me proving that you couldn't have changed anything if Harry had told you how he felt. You would have reacted just like that and you would have probably acted weird around him for a long, long time. It would have made things worse between you," he explained.   
I really wanted to hit him.   
"I fucking hate you, Niall Horan," I growled.  
I really did hate him, mostly because I knew that he was right.   
"I'm just looking out for you," he said.  
"Leave me alone," I snapped, turning away from him and unnecessarily wiping my mouth again.   
"I just came out to check on you," he chuckled, before stepping back inside.   
I flipped him off behind his back.   
By the time that I went inside, it was late.  
The boys all looked surprised to see me and a little bit relieved too.  
"Thought you jumped off the balcony," Zayn said coldly.  
I had a feeling that he was a little bit bitter about my comment before I had gone outside.   
"Contemplated it," I replied smoothly.   
A flash of panic crossed his eyes, but he shoved it away.  
"We were going to watch a movie," Liam said cautiously, "Do you have any ideas?"  
"I don't care," I said, sitting down.   
My clothes smelled like smoke, I noticed. I wrinkled my nose.   
I let them debate about a movie before they finally decided on some horror one. I didn't pay much attention to it until I saw a flash of silver and blood on the screen.  
I focused more intently to see that some girl was cutting herself on screen. Her eyes were black and I figured that she was supposed to be possessed.  
Suddenly I wasn't seeing a girl. I was seeing Harry.   
It was Harry jerking the blade across his wrist, screaming, tears spilling from his eyes as his chest heaved for air.   
It was Harry collapsing to the ground, blood flowing from his wrist and pooling around his still body.  
It was us surrounding his body and not the police and parents of the girl.   
It was me screaming and begging for him to be alive, not the mother.   
It took me a few moments to realize that the movie had been paused and that everybody was looking at me.   
I was sweating, but I felt cold at the same time. It ran down my back and I fought the urge to wipe it off.  
"Lou?" Liam asked tentatively.   
I simply stood and walked out of his house, a hand covering my mouth to keep me from throwing up. 

Harry's POV

"Workout! Workout! Workout!" I chanted, dancing around Felix as we walked.   
"Why do you like this so much?" he snorted, narrowly avoiding tripping on one of my feet.   
"'It's a healthy way to deal with stress'," I said, quoting pamphlets I had read on stress management, "I really don't know. I like the burn, I guess."  
"That sounded inappropriate," Felix teased.   
He reached out and grabbed my arm to stop my dancing. I smirked at him and kissed his nose quickly before darting away.   
"Tease!" he shouted after me, running to catch up with me.  
He caught me around the waist and picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder.  
I was light, I knew that, and Felix was strong. It still must have looked ridiculous because we were both about the same height. He was only slightly taller than me.   
I laughed and wriggled around in his arms, kicking and yelling.   
"Somebody is going to think I'm like raping you or something!" he hissed, struggling to see through my hair as he walked.   
"Rape!" I screamed, laughing hysterically.   
"You're a prick, you know that?" he grunted, pushing open the door to the gym and putting me down.   
"Yep!" I agreed.   
The gym was never very busy and we usually had our choice of machines. As I looked around, there were only about six other people.   
"So, you're at forty-five now, right?" Felix asked.  
I nodded. I'd gained eight pounds since starting to work out, and they'd allowed me to go for longer.   
"Nice," he said approvingly.   
I shrugged. I didn't think it was nice. More pounds meant more fat on my body.   
I still stared at myself in the mirror for unnecessary amounts of time, trying to force myself to look thinner.   
Felix hated it. He would stand behind me and hug me. He'd tell me over and over again how perfect I was, how not fat I was. I could tell how angry it made him when I protested, but he never took it out on me.   
"I think I'll start with the weight machines," I said.   
He nodded. He preferred to unleash his frustrations on a punching bag.  
I worked for twenty minutes with the different weight machines, forcing myself to just get in one more lift everyone my muscles have out.   
I walked shakily over to the treadmill, my muscles burning deliciously.   
I jogged for a few minutes, warming up my already tired muscles.   
Then I turned it up so that I was basically sprinting. I loved the sound my shoes made beating against the rubber. I loved how fast it was, how hard it was to keep from giving up and letting the rapidly moving machine launch me backwards. I loved the burn in my lungs and the burn in my muscles.   
I even liked the sweat that dripped down my body, soaking through my shirt. I wiped at my forehead as I ran, sweat starting to roll down dangerously close to my eyes.   
Eventually, every sound faded away and got replaced by white noise and the pounding of my heart in my ears.   
"Five minutes, Harry!" Felix called, his voice filtering through.  
I growled to myself, but I dutifully slowed the treadmill to a jog to cool down.   
I grabbed my water from a built in cup holder and drank it greedily. It felt good against my aching throat.   
I felt like every part of my body was dripping sweat. It felt disgusting and great at the same time.  
I hopped off after five minutes of cooling down and gladly accepted the towel that Felix handed me. I felt a little strange, a little dizzy, just like I always did after working hard.   
I leaned heavily on him as he refilled his water bottle in a fountain.   
"I feel dizzy," I muttered, "More than usual."  
"You need to sit?" he asked, immediately alarmed.   
"Probably should," I said, collapsing on a bench.   
"You're pretty pale. Drink some water, okay?" he suggested.   
I nodded, but I didn't drink anything. I was starting to feel nauseous.  
I put my head between my knees and waited for the feeling to pass.   
"What did you eat today?" Felix asked.  
"Not much. It's still pretty early, so I only are breakfast a few hours ago," I mumbled.  
The nausea and dizziness came and went, but each time it returned, it felt more intense.   
Finally, I knew that I had to give up.   
"I'm gonna be sick," I whispered, breathing shallowly.   
Felix barely had time to shove a conveniently close-by trash bin under my chin before I vomited.   
I retched weakly, my eyes watering and my already tired body shuddering.   
It passed quickly and I lifted my head and set the bin down on the floe shakily.   
The other people working out seemed to pay it no mind. They probably had seen me vomit multiple times while trying to enjoy their meals.   
"Think I worked to hard," I said softly.  
I still felt dizzy, but it was a different, exhilarating kind of dizzy. I recognized it.   
It was the feeling that I had always gotten after forcing myself to throw up. It was the feeling of release.   
I didn't know why I never felt it when I got sick from eating too much, but my head spun as I tried to keep from smiling.  
"Yeah, you did, babe," Felix sighed, "I thought you were when I was watching you. You feeling better now?"  
I felt great, actually. Pent-up emotion had been released and I felt really, really good.   
"Mmm. Yeah," I sighed, "Can we go back to the room?"  
He nodded.   
"I'll take that outside and tell somebody so it can get cleaned," he said, motioning to the bin at my feet.  
I wobbled when I stood and he wrapped and arm firmly around my waist.   
"I've got you," he murmured.  
He picked up the bin and we walked out.   
By the time we got back to our room, the euphoric feeling had left me and my mouth tasted disgusting.  
I brushed my teeth and crawled into Felix's bed. It felt warmer than mine.   
"How about you rest for a bit and then we'll get something to eat?" he suggested.  
I nodded.   
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I rested my head on his shoulder as he read some book.  
I must have fallen asleep, because he gently shook me awake a while later.  
I grumbled and nosed into his neck.   
"C'mon, popstar. My arm is falling asleep and I'm hungry," he complained.  
"I'm tired," I countered.   
"You can sleep later," he said, rolling away and standing.   
I growled at the loss of his warmth, but I followed him down to get food.   
We sat next to each other. As usual, he all but inhaled his meal He stabbed a piece of chocolate cake that he was eating as dessert and held it out for me.   
I ate it off of his fork and I nodded in approval. It was sweet and rich, the kind of food that would make my stomach hurt for hours if I ate more than a bite.   
I nibbled on the lasagna I was eating. It was good, but I wanted to rush the loo and make it come back up.   
After eating, I followed Felix to the game room that we had.   
I sat beside him as he played some game against a kid named Seth who I had never heard say a single word.   
I leaned my head on Felix's shoulder and sighed.  
I had gotten a taste of the addictive feeling of release and I craved it desperately.   
My wrists started to itch and I shifted restlessly. I glanced at Felix to make sure that he was looking at the game.  
I dug the nails of my right hand into my left wrist. It was a dull pain, but it was the best that I could get.   
I dug my index finger in harder and wiggled it around, trying to make it break skin.  
I sighed audibly when it did and the tiniest amount of blood welled to the surface. I scratched at it to make more blood fill the cut.   
I glanced up to see Felix frowning down at me, his eyebrows furrowed.   
"Seth, we need to go. I'll finish with you some other time," he said quietly.  
We walked back to the room in silence. He shut the door and turned to face me.  
"What triggered you?" he asked.  
I shrugged, trying to sink into the ground and away from the sadness in his eyes.   
"I know that there's a reason. Don't try to bullshit me," Felix sighed.   
"It felt good when I threw up earlier. It was that release that I've told you about. I just wanted to feel it again," I mumbled.   
He frowned.  
"Quit looking like I'm going to shout at you. I'm not mad, babe," he said.   
I shrugged again.  
Felix walked towards me and tipped my chin up so that I had to look at him.  
"I'm not mad, Harry. I just hate that you do this to yourself. And lately, I've been getting scared of what's going to happen when I leave. I know that you're in an excellent place, but I feel like I have to watch over you all the time. Call me conceited, but I feel like I can protect you more than anybody else," he admitted.   
I sucked my lip in between my teeth and bit down hard.   
"Can't you stay?" I asked, gripping his shirt in my fists.  
"There's no reason for me to," Felix sighed, "Somebody else needs my place here."  
"I don't want another roommate," I complained, rubbing circles on his hip with my thumb.   
He smiled and led me to lay down next to him in his bed.  
"You can request a single room," he said.   
"I'll do that, then," I said, burying my face in his neck.  
"Harry...I've still got three weeks left. It's not like I'm leaving right now," he said.  
"That's so soon!" I wailed.   
"Twenty-one days. 504 hours. Umm...like 30,000 minutes or something. And like 1,800,000 seconds," he said.  
"Cheeky," I commented.   
"You love it," he said.  
Yeah, I did.  
I looked up and into his glittering eyes as he smiled down at me.   
I felt a rush of affection for him as I smiled back.  
So I kissed him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of updates, guys. I've been away at camp for two weeks and I go back today, actually. But hopefully I'll get another chapter posted before I leave.   
> Love you!

Harry's POV

When I first kissed him, both Felix and I were to startled to move.  
Kissing him had been so instinctive and automatic, but once I had done it, I felt like I had never kissed somebody before. My hands felt clammy and nervousness pooled in my stomach as I willed him to do something.   
Finally, he moved, parting his lips slightly for me to slot mine between. One of his hands moved to hold the back of my neck.  
Felix's mouth was soft, almost like a girl's. I smiled slightly, remembering how I had always teased him for being obsessed with Chapstick.   
I ran my hands through his hair. It wasn't as soft as Louis's.   
I mentally cursed at myself for thinking of Louis as I kissed Felix.   
Felix grunted softly and I realized that I had bitten his lower lip when I had tensed up. I relaxed, forcing myself to focus on what really was real and now who I dreamed of kissing.   
I felt Felix use his free hand to tug on my waist, guiding me to straddle him.   
It wasn't like I hadn't kissed a guy before. I'd done it multiple times while hopelessly drunk, wishing that when I pulled away, that just once I would see Louis staring back and not a random stranger.   
Surprisingly, I didn't remember any of them really caring that they had just snogged Harry fucking Styles.   
I liked it that way.   
I pulled away from Felix and rested my forehead against his. His eyes fluttered open and my heart ached as I looked into green and not bright blue.   
A lazy smile spread over his face.   
"Was wondering if you would ever make a move," he murmured.   
I shrugged and bit my lip.   
I bent down and kissed him again, sighing softly into his mouth. His nails scratched gently at my scalp and I struggled to surpress a moan.   
Felix knew me too well though, and I could feel him smirk slightly as he tugged at the curls on the back of my neck.   
I gasped and shivered, biting his lip gently when he chuckled.   
One hand stayed tangled in my hair but his other gently traced up and down my sides, occasionally slipping under my shirt.   
His hands were big and tough and not at all like Louis's soft, small ones. I found myself wishing that Felix wasn't as big as I was. I wanted him to be much smaller and I wanted his hair to be brown and not blonde and his eyes to be blue and not green.   
I wanted him to be Louis.   
I hissed and tried to shake the invasive thoughts of Louis away, but as always, he stubbornly clung to my mind.   
"Relax, babe," Felix murmured as he pulled away.  
He kissed along the edge of my jaw, nipping lightly. He reached my ear and bit down, tugging lightly before trailing his lips down my throat. He sucked, hard enough that it hurt slightly.   
I hissed again, but for a much different reason, and pulled his chin up so that I could kiss him more.  
I kissed him desperately, needing to feel the love that he was providing.   
"Felix," I gasped, "FelixFelixFelixFelix!"   
I struggled to focus on him and to not allow myself to slip into a lie that I was actually kissing Louis. It made my heart ache and I took it out on Felix's mouth, biting down hard.   
I whined when he pushed me back and I tried to follow his lips.   
He stared at me, his eyes wide and rather dark. His hair was messy from my hands and it fell into his face.   
Finally, his eyes clouded and he sighed.   
"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, batting my wandering hands away.   
I looked at him, confused.   
"Well, I was kissing you and you were kissing me. Did I do something wrong?" I asked, getting scared.   
He had seemed into the kisses. But what if he hadn't been?   
I scrambled off of his lap. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He was avoiding my eyes, I could tell.   
"Were you kissing me?" he asked, so quietly that I hardly heard him.   
I was getting more confused by the second.  
"What do you mean?" I asked, "I didn't exactly imagine it and neither did you."   
He shook his head and stared intently at the bed underneath us.   
"Who were you kissing, Harry?" he asked sadly, "Was it me? Or was it Louis?"   
Once again, Felix knew me too well.   
I couldn't answer him. My throat was tight with guilt and my chest ached.   
"Harry, I...," he started, but he paused.   
He finally looked at me and his eyes burned so intensely that I had to look away.  
"I think that I've always been really into you, you know. Like from day one," he said quietly, "But I never could do anything about it. In the beginning, I'll admit it, your mind was so fucked and you were hardly sane sometimes. And then you got better and you could finally open up to me and all you could say about Louis was how much you loved him. It's always been Louis, Harry, I know that it has, but sometimes...I dunno, sometimes I just wondered if maybe it couldn't be me one day."  
I gaped at him and he stared back at me. His eyes were full of something that I could only recognize in my own eyes when I looked at Louis.   
"I thought that maybe sometimes you would look at me differently, like maybe you felt what I feel for you about me. I love you, Harry, and it goes deeper than you being my best friend. And fuck, don't look at me and say that you weren't wishing that I was Louis that entire time that you were kissing me. I know that you were, I could feel it when you fought it. But you were still kissing him, not me. I understand, I really do," Felix sighed, "I know how you feel now. He could be right next to you but so far out of your reach at the same time."  
I was stunned. I was frozen. I was everything that dealt with being completely shocked.  
"Look, Harry, don't feel guilty, because I know that you are. You know how you told Louis that it wasn't his fault? Well, it's not your fault that I feel this way. You're another one of my addictions now," he said, his mouth twitching intk a quirky half-smile.   
Felix glanced at me and I couldn't move to look away. He looked so defeated.   
"Part of me really wishes that I didn't know you so well. Maybe I could believe that you felt the same way about me and that you were really kissing me. But I can't. Maybe I was stupid to not stop myself when I looked at you longer than I should have or when I cuddled with you or anything really. But fuck, you're so fucking addictive, Harry! I just can't help myself around you!" he cried, "You're so perfect, even if you can't see it! I've never wanted to kill somebody as much as I want to kill Louis because he fucking doesn't deserve how much you love him. He's the worst thing that ever happened to me!"  
Felix had his teeth bared in a vicious snarl as he ranted. But then he looked into my eyes and he relaxed slightly.  
"But maybe he's the best. If it weren't for him, I would have never met you, would I? But then again, maybe it would have been better to never know you, to never get so addicted. One look and you had me, Harry. I'll do anything for you except stop loving you because fuck, I have no idea how," he whispered, his expression similar to a man drowning.   
Desperate and afraid and helpless.   
I felt the same way. The walls seemed to be closing in on me, smothering me. My heart started to race and I struggled to stay relatively calm.   
"Can we just forget that this happened? I don't want our relationship to fall apart like your's and Louis's did. I want to be your best friend, Harry. I'll deal with my feelings and maybe they'll go away eventually. You never know," he said, smiling sadly at the ground.  
I knew that he didn't believe what he was saying. He knew that he was probably in too deep.   
"Listen, I need to go to my appointment. I'll talk to you later, okay?" he asked gently, ruffling my hair as he stood.   
One of his knees cracked as he stood, the sound faint against my ringing ears.   
Felix left without another word, the door closing behind him.   
I touched the empty space that he had left beside me. The duvet was warm against my hand from his body.   
My fingers came up to my mouth, feeling it tenderly. It was still slightly swollen from kissing Felix.   
What had I done? Felix was the only person that I could depend on. I needed him to survive. He was my lifeline and I had all but cut the rope that tied me to him.   
I stood and violently threw one of his pillows across the room with a furious yell.  
I didn't know who I was the most angry with.   
Louis, for fucking me up in the first place.  
Felix, for being so stupid to fall for somebody who he knew couldn't return his feelings.  
Me, for being so fucked up and fucking Felix up.   
I threw his other pillow and then I ripped off the duvet and sheets from his bed. I picked up the mattress and shoved it off as well.  
I then proceeded to rip apart my bed as well.   
I yanked out the drawers in the desks and the bedside tables and threw them to the floor.  
I was seeing red. I was so angry.   
I opened the drawers of our dressers and I threw clothes around the room before pulling out the drawers as well.  
I swiped things off of tables and surfaces, not caring if they broke when they hit the ground.   
I threw a picture of Felix and I against the wall until the frame shattered and there were dents in the walls. I took out the picture, cutting my fingers on the glass, and I ripped it in two.   
Once that I was satisfied with having completely destroyed our room, I collapsed in a pile of clothes and started to sob. Sweat ran down my face and mixed in with my tears.  
Why did I have to mess everything up? Why couldn't I just have one normal, healthy friendship without somebody falling in love with the other?   
I was so fucking stupid and useless! I hurt everybody that I loved. Fuck, they'd be so much better without me.   
They'd already lost me mentally anyways. What was losing me physically going to hurt? Nobody needed to see me. I was disgusting and nobody wanted to look at me anyways.   
I had put up so many walls that anybody besides Felix and Aysiah couldn't say that they knew me, even my family and the boys.   
Fuck it. I didn't care if I hurt anybody anymore. I had already hurt everyone more than I knew was possible.  
I crawled over to the broken glass, my sides heaving as I choked on air.   
I had to stop halfway across the room. I was so dizzy with lack of oxygen and I knew that I was hyperventilating.   
In the mess that I had created, I had no idea where my inhaler had gone.   
I laid down, clutching at a shirt that I had whipped to the floor. I was going to black out and I wondered frantically how much time had passed since Felix had left.   
I was so scared. I didn't want to die anymore, not of an anxiety attack.   
Would I breath normally when I went unconscious? Or would I die of lack of oxygen before Felix came back?  
I was terrified and it wasn't helping. I retched, vomiting on a duvet. I still couldn't breath and I wondered if I was choking on vomit.   
I tried to scream, but now sound came out. My vision swam and my last memory was of my grip loosening on the shirt that I clutched. 

 

Louis's POV

After I fled from Liam's house, I instinctively went to Harry's to curl up in his bed.   
I decided that I would never watch another movie again. I didn't want to see somebody cutting themselves, even if it was fake.   
Fuck, I never wanted to watch TV or go on the Internet ever again.   
I felt so sick and I curled into the fetal position.   
I could feel my phone buzzing in my pocket and I knew that it had to be one of the boys, wondering if I was alright.  
Didn't they know they that I hadn't been alright for months?   
I let my mind wander and it decided to pick Harry, as usual.   
I often wondered if he had ever done anything with a guy or if I was the only one that he had ever kissed and apparently had sex with.   
I wished that I could remember. I had to assume that I had been on top, for lack of better words. I knew that I would have been sore the next morning if I hadn't been.   
When I thought hard about it, I did remember Harry walking weirdly the next day.   
We'd gotten into a fight the next day. I remembered that with a sickening feeling in my stomach.   
He'd said something about it hurting him when I stayed away from him in public and how he hated how I was more worried about how Eleanor dealt with hate than how I was treating him.  
Christ. Why hasn't I listened to him? Why hadn't I treated him better? Why hadn't I loved him? Why didn't I love him?  
I wanted to know what he felt so badly! What kind of love was so strong that it made you crazy?   
Was it a gay thing?  
I had to laugh at myself. Gay people loved the same as straight people. There was no difference in their minds and how they loved.   
But I was so desperate that rationality was flying out of the window at an alarming rate.   
Fuck. I needed to know what it felt like to be with a guy.   
I dug my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contacts until I found Logan.   
He'd put his number into my phone when I had met him at a club. I remembered with a small smile that he had told me that he had a boyfriend named Harry.  
H & L, just like Harry and Louis.   
I clicked on it, my heart racing.   
"'Lo?" a groggy sounding voice.   
"Logan?" I asked, my voice shaking.   
"Yeah. S' me," he grumbled, "Who're you?"  
"Louis. Louis Tomlinson. Um, I met you at a club once. You danced with me even though you have a boyfriend named Harry and you said that he was a big fan and fuck, I'm rambling, but yeah. It's Louis," I chattered anxiously.   
"Oh! Louis!" he exclaimed, suddenly more awake, "I'm sorry. Um, I was kind of half-awake when I answered. Yeah, babe. Louis Tomlinson, I told you that I met him."  
I assumed that the second half of his talking was him talking to his Harry.   
I heard a rustle and what sounded like a bed creaking and it hit me.   
Ah. I knew why Logan sounded tired when it was only the early evening. I had to give myself a naughty little pat on the back.   
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of Louis Tomlinson calling me?" he asked.   
"Um. I was like...wondering if you um...knew anybody like...who would um like to...like...somebody who um...might like to uh...hook up with...um, me?" I squeaked, "Like, um, a guy preferably?"   
Logan was silent for a while.  
"Yeah, I do. But you've got a fiancée, Louis. I'm not the type of guy to help somebody cheat," he said.   
"Fuck, I know, but I just...I just need to know something. Please, Logan, I'm desperate!" I pleaded.  
"Why didn't you just go to a club or bar or something and find somebody there? There's tons of guys out there who're looking for something like this. And if you want to know if getting a dick up your arse is pleasurable, yes. It most definitely is," he chuckled.  
I blushed even though he wasn't even with me.  
"No, um, that's not what I was wondering. And I guess I didn't think of that, honestly. Fuck, Logan, please? Please? I'm fucking going insane!" I begged.   
"I'm so going to hell for this. Fuck it, alright. One of my friends has a gay friend who's always looking for some. Do you want me to like give him your address or what?" Logan sighed.  
"Yeah. Um, yeah. That'd be good," I said, "I guess my number too."  
Logan got my address and hung up, promising to call the guy and that he really did know him and that the guy would not attempt to murder me.  
Minutes later, I got a text.  
'Hey, baby. You ready for me now?'  
I gulped. Suddenly, this was a horrible idea.   
'Yes.'  
I typed back.  
'Mmm, okay. I'll be there in twenty. Why don't you get your sexy arse all ready for me?'  
I stared at the message. What did I even have to do? Did I need like a dildo or something?  
'This is my first time. I don't know what to do.'  
I was being honest.   
'Fuck, that's so hot baby. I'm only typing with one hand ;-) How about you lay down for me'  
I shakily went into Harry's guest room. I wasn't doing this on his bed.   
'Okay.'  
I slid out of my track pants.   
'Get your fingers nice and slippery for me and go ahead and get one in that tight little arse.'  
I had to shove my hand up my arse?   
I shook my head and scrambled back to Harry's room, digging through various drawers until I found a small bottle of half-empty lube.  
Nope. I was definitely not going to think about what the other half had been used for.   
I returned back to the guest room and I lubed up my fingers. I pushed one inside of me and I wrinkled my nose.  
Ugh. It was so uncomfortable and it was a bit painful. Fuck, I had to get an actual dick in me? It didn't seem possible and suddenly I felt really sick and scared.  
'You tight? This the first time you've fingered yourself?'  
'Yes.'  
'Mmm. Be there in ten, baby. You like it?'  
'It feels weird.'  
'Think you can get another in? I'm so hard thinking about you.'  
I tried to force another finger in and I squeezed my eyes shut. It definitely hurt. I couldn't do it.  
I pulled my fingers out and wiped them on the sheets.  
I sat on the edge of the bed, terrified but still curious. I periodically got messages from the guy.  
Ben was his name, Logan had said.   
I jumped when I heard a knock.  
I was going to throw up on the carpet. I knew it. I was so scared.   
I slunk to the door and opened it a crack.  
Ben looked like the picture Logan had sent.  
Long, straight black hair and dark skin and eyes. Lots of muscle. He was attractive but I was so terrified that it didn't matter.   
I opened it all the way and a lazy smirk slid over his mouth as he stepped inside.   
He slowly strolled towards me and I backed up until I was pressed against the wall, his hips pinning me down.  
Something very large pressed into my hip bone.   
He was much taller than me, I realized.   
"Fuck. I'm so hard for you, baby, you know that? I want you to get on your knees for me," he growled in my ear, biting down hard.   
I knelt down tentatively and I shakily undid his belt. My mind was going on autopilot.   
When he stepped out of his jeans, I saw that he wore no underwear. I stared at his dick. No way was that going inside of me.  
"Going to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours," was all the warning I got before he was forcing my head back and his dick inside of my mouth.  
I choked and gagged violently as he hit the back of my throat. He stilled and my nose pressed against his stomach.  
I thrashed around, inhaling frantically through my nose.  
I was going to suffocate!  
He pulled out and shoved back in, forcing me to stay still.   
"Fuck, baby, just look at you taking it," he groaned.   
I wasn't just taking it. I was gagging and choking and close to throwing up.   
Finally, he pulled completely out and helped me up.  
"Was gonna come. Wanna wait till I'm inside of that perfect arse of yours," he growled.   
My throat ached and I turned away so that he wouldn't see the tears streaking down my face.  
"Bedroom," he hissed.   
I slunk to the guest room. He shoved me down onto the bed and clambered on top of me, grinding down.   
"Look at you, so pretty, so wrecked already!" he cooed, tugging my hair so my neck was exposed.  
I whimpered in pain as he sunk his teeth into my throat.   
He tore off the pants that I had put back on me before he had arrived.   
"I'm not going to touch you. You'll come untouched and not until I say so," he ordered.  
I was freely bawling, but he didn't notice.   
He dribbled lube onto three fingers and shoved them all in.   
I sobbed, pain shooting up my lower back. I hadn't even gotten two in!  
"So tight! Fuck, you'll feel good," he rumbled.   
He thrusted his fingers unrelentingly. He grunted when he decided that I was good enough and pulled out.  
I was still crying, fear and pain paralyzingly me.   
Ben pulled out a condom and rolled it on. He grinned wickedly as he squirted more lube out onto himself.   
He pressed himself against me and he let out a low, animalistic groan as he forced himself in.  
I literally shrieked with the pain that shocked me. It hurt so bad that I saw stars.  
"Please, no, stop!" I sobbed.  
"Mmm, so tight," he purred.  
"Seriously, stop! Please, don't! Get out, please! I can't do this!" I wailed, thrashing around.  
I shoved him off of me. He stared at me.  
"You got a kink for rape role-plays?" he asked, giving me his dirty smile.  
"No! Please, please, please! I can't! I've got a fiancée and I just can't do this! Please, it hurts and please just go!" I begged.  
His eyes narrowed angrily.  
The next thing that I knew, my face was the part of me in pain and blood was splattering across my shirt.   
"You little fucking whore! You're just a cheap little shit! Fuck you, I didn't come here to be rejected! Fucking whore!" he snarled.   
He shoved his clothes on and stormed out. I heard the front door slam.   
I sobbed hysterically, my nose bleeding steadily from when he had hit me. I didn't think that it was broken, but it hurt and so did my arse.  
I stumbled from the room and felt around Harry's, blind from my tears, until I found my phone.  
I dialed Eleanor.  
"Hello? Louis?" she answered, sounding irritated.  
I couldn't stop crying.  
"Lou? You okay?" she asked, worry filtering through.  
"El, I...I...can you come o-over tomorrow? I need...I need to talk t-to you," I sobbed.  
"Yeah, babe, of course. What's wrong?" she agreed.  
"I'll...I'll tell you tomorrow," I hiccuped before hanging up on her.  
I laid down in Harry's bed again, my nose undoubtably staining it.   
I had just had sex with a guy. Did it count as sex if neither of use had finished?  
I threw up, loving the placement of Harry's trash bin next to the bed.   
I was so disgusting, so sickening.  
I didn't deserve to be alive.


	22. Chapter 22

Louis's POV 

I sat, feeling numb, on Harry's sofa, waiting for Eleanor to arrive. I hadn't needed to tell her that I wasn't at my own place.   
What I did have to tell her was what I had done with Ben. I just couldn't take any more guilt. There couldn't be any more secrets.   
I was falling apart and everybody knew it, but nobody knew just how messed up I was.   
I had the door unlocked.   
I heard it open and I looked up.   
Eleanor stood, hesitant in the doorway.   
"Hi," I said quietly, motioning for her to come over.  
I was fairly sure that the fact that I had spent the entire night crying showed on my face. But what else was new? Other than the nice bruise around my right eye from where Ben had hit me.   
"Hey, babe. What's going on? You were so upset when you called me last night," she said gently, carefully walking towards me.   
I chewed on my lip, feeling the already scabby, raw skin sting under my teeth.   
"El," I sighed.   
"Louis," she said sternly, "Louis, listen, I know that this relationship has been a mess for months. If you're breaking up with me, just do it, okay?"  
She tried to sound brave, but I knew her well enough to hear the waver in her voice. She blinked rapidly.   
"No, I'm not. But I...fuck, I slept with somebody last night. I think. I don't know if it really counted as sleeping with somebody cause neither of us finished, but fuck! Fuck, El, it was a guy!" I cried, tears pooling in my eyes.  
I'd woken up with pain shooting up my arse and my lower back and pain in my heart and mind.   
With as much as my heart had been hurting, I wondered if I wasn't going to have a heart attack eventually.   
She stared at me, her eyes wide and confused and full of hurt.   
"Why?" she asked quietly.  
"I just wanted to know. What it was like and...Christ, I hardly even know myself. I just wanted to know, I just wanted to understand Harry because I don't! I wanted to know what it was like when we did it, but it wasn't good at all and I had to kick the guy out because it hurt so bad and he hit me and I was so scared, El!" I sobbed.   
She shook her head slowly, her face contorting in disgust.   
"Who the fuck are you in a relationship with anyways, Louis? Me or Harry? You spend all of your time thinking about Harry, trying to figure this whole mess out. Newsflash, Louis, it isn't that hard. He fell in love with you because you're an amazing, wonderful, attractive guy who sometimes crossed the line when it came to your friendship! I fell in love with you for the same reasons! But I'm not in love with that person anymore because that's not you! You say you don't know who Harry is anymore but I have no fucking clue who you are!" she yelled.   
I flinched and shrank back into the sofa, hugging my knees.   
"I just want to understand," I whispered, "It's driving me crazy, El, please understand! There's so many questions and I don't have any answers and I'm seriously going to to insane and I think I already am!"   
Eleanor just stood and looked at me.   
"You've had some terrible ideas before, Louis, but I think that getting engaged was the worst one," she said coldly, "It's always been Harry over me, even before this shit happened. He needed you and we were together, you would drop everything and go to him. Just tell me something, Louis. Are you even in love with me anymore? Were you ever? Or were you just in love with the idea of love?"   
"No, I was in love with you, El, please believe me! Now, I just don't fucking know anymore," I wailed.   
"Then maybe we should just end this, Louis. You're not making an effort to even talk to me anymore and I don't want a fiancée who throws me away just because something tragic happens. I get it a bit, but you're too far gone," she whispered, tears starting to roll down her cheeks.   
Eleanor took a few steps towards me and slid the ring off of her finger. She took my hand and squeezed it before gently placing the ring in my palm.   
"I wish that I could say that I don't hate you, Louis, but I think that I do. You've broken my heart," she said.   
I looked into her eyes. Eleanor looked so hurt and sad, but there was a hard look of determination as well.   
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.   
"No you aren't," she corrected.   
Without a look back towards me, she left.   
And as she slipped away, so did the last sliver of my sanity. 

 

Liam's POV 

I was getting ready to leave to visit Harry when Louis texted me.  
'Can you come over? I think that I need you.'  
It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but I figured that that probably wasn't a good thing.   
I called Zayn and Niall to tell them that I wasn't going to see Harry and then I left.   
I assumed that Louis had gone to Harry's place after he had left mine. He always went there when he was upset.   
"Louis?" I called as I stepped inside.   
Louis was sitting on the sofa and he looked up at me. I noticed the bruise on his face and the tears steadily rolling past it.   
He held up his hand and opened his palm. I leaned closer to see the tiny object that he held.  
"Oh, Lou," I whispered, "Did it happen just now?"   
He nodded, biting his lip.   
"I did something pretty stupid," he sniffled, "And she broke up with me. She hates me, she said so. I've lost everything, Liam! My best friend, my fiancée, my fucking sanity!"  
Louis stood abruptly and whipped the ring across the room. It hit the wall and clattered to the ground.  
"Louis, it's alright. You were being shit to her, but you can make it up to her if you want," I said, crossing the room towards him.  
"But I don't love her anymore!" he shrieked, his eyes wild, "Fuck, I don't even care about her and that's what's so fucking scary! I tried to sleep with some random fucking guy last night but I couldn't and he hit me and I was so scared and fuck, it hurt, Liam, and my arse hurts and my eye hurts and my fucking heart hurts!"  
I tried to not show my shock, but it was fairly tough. Louis, sleeping with a guy while he was still in a relationship? Louis was the most loyal person that I knew.  
"You don't get it, Liam, I'm seriously going insane!" he yelled, yanking at his hair and doubling over.   
He burst into heavy, gasping sobs. I wasn't sure if he was actually crying or if he was just hyperventilating.   
I rushed over to him and caught him around the waist before he collapsed to his knees.   
"I don't want this anymore!" he wailed.   
Louis turned around in my arms and started to hit my chest, his fists loose as his body shook.   
Louis was smaller than me and he was weaker, but it still hurt. I let him though. It was better that he took his anger and hurt out on me than himself.   
He started to slide down to the ground, but I grabbed him and pulled him to the sofa and onto my lap.   
I cradled him as he sobbed.  
Suddenly he screamed, sounding so pained and agonized that it scared me.  
He screamed and screamed and screamed until his voice gave out.   
"I don't want this!" he screamed, "I want to die, Liam!"   
My blood ran cold and my eyes widened.   
He struggled out of my grip and tried to make his way to the kitchen. I knew that he wanted alcohol and I also knew that he wouldn't find any. I had cleared the place out.   
I caught his wrist and he screamed again, angrily.  
"Just let me go, Liam!" he shrieked, "I'm ruining everything for people, just let me die!"   
I shook my head.  
I was scared, bloody terrified actually.   
But I cooed at him and pulled him back to the sofa where he screamed and cried and begged to die. 

 

Harry's POV

Felix and I had to move to another room because I had destroyed our previous one.   
I tried valiantly to avoid him, but I couldn't. I felt terrible and sick.   
He had come back a few minutes after I had passed out and I had woken up in our new room.   
It had been the worst panic attack that I had ever had, he said, he was so sorry that he had left me alone.   
I met his eyes from across the room as Gemma left.   
I gave him a small, tentative smile. He smiled back easily.   
Zayn walked in, along with Niall.   
I was able to have more than one visitor at a time.  
"Where's Liam?" I asked.   
Liam always came in first.   
"He's, um, with Louis," Niall said slowly, avoiding my curious look, "He texted us a few minutes ago. Apparently Eleanor broke up with him and he's not exactly dealing too well."  
I wondered if there was more to it than Niall was saying. He seemed on edge.   
"Is he going to be alright?" Felix asked.   
He sounded genuinely concerned for somehody that he allegedly hated.   
"Probably. I don't really know. That's all Liam told us. We don't really know the details," Zayn said.  
Just like Niall, I felt like he was leaving something out.   
Felix nodded, looking curious and worried.   
We made small talk for a while before Niall's phone rang.  
"It's Liam," he said quickly before answering, "Yeah, Li?"  
He listened for a while and his face slowly drained of color.   
"Okay. Yeah, we'll come. Just hold on, keep him safe," he said.  
His face was white and I grew scared.  
He hung up and nodded at Zayn.  
"We need to leave. Now," he said urgently, "Lou's completely lost it. He's um..."  
Niall looked at me quickly before continuing, "Apparently he's going on and on about killing himself. Liam's scared and he doesn't think that he can handle Louis himself."  
Now all four of us were pale.  
"Okay. Yeah, let's go," Zayn said.   
They left quickly, sparing me a quick goodbye.   
I stared at Felix and I felt myself start to shake.  
"It's my fault. It's my fault, ohmygod, what if he kills himself?" I gasped, my heart rate picking up and my lungs straining.  
"Harry, calm down, okay? We can call them later and check on him, okay?" Felix said soothingly.  
I nodded.  
But I could only wait.  
Suddenly, I knew exactly how Louis felt.


	23. Chapter 23

Harry's POV

I loved Felix to death, but sometimes, I really hated some things about him.   
Mainly that he knew me entirely too well.   
I had been dancing around him, avoiding the conversation that I knew that we had to have eventually. I knew that he could feel how tense I went every time he so much as walked next to me.   
I didn't know how to treat him. I didn't know if he wanted me to keep cuddling with him and kissing his cheeks or if he wanted me to back off.   
"Harry Styles, put that fucking book down right now and talk to me," he ordered, storming into our room.   
I set the book that I had been reading down and hesitantly looked over to him.   
"About what?" I asked, attempting to feign innocence.   
He scowled at me.   
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm done with you're bullshit act of forgetting that anything ever happened. You're a shit actor Harry, I know that you have no idea how to act," he snapped, "So just fucking talk to me, okay? You went from my best friend to my best friend that I know feels incredibly awkward around me and it's driving me crazy."   
"It's fine, Felix. We're fine," I mumbled, but I had given up trying to mask the unease in both my voice and posture.   
"Like I said, Harry, you're a shit actor," he snorted, "We are not fine and you know it."  
Felix looked more upset than angry. I hated it.   
I looked down, around the room, at the door- anywhere but Felix's burning eyes.   
"Jesus fucking Christ, Harry. Listen. Yes, I've got feelings for you, pretty fucking strong feelings. But I don't just love you in a romantic sense, okay? I love you because you're my best friend and I'm not letting what happened with you and Louis happen to us, got it?"  
I cringed and I kept looking at my feet.   
He made me feel like I had been so weak for not trying to be friends with Louis. There Felix was, shoving his feelings aside so that I could be happy.   
I suddenly hated him, my chest burning with the dark, ugly emotion.   
Who was he to be so fucking noble or whatever he was doing? Who was he to be so condescending? Who the fuck was he to make me feel even weaker than I already knew that I was?   
Then, as I looked up, outraged and furious, my hatred melted away just as quickly as it had come.  
Suddenly, he wasn't condescending. He wasn't noble.   
Felix's eyes were brimming with tears and he looked so desperate and afraid.  
He looked like he was the weak one.   
"Harry, I can't lose you like that, okay? And fuck, I don't know if I'm being selfish or not. Part of me wants to be close to you still because I want to feel like I could have a chance with you eventually. But the rational part of me knows that I don't stand a chance at all and that maybe I'm stupid for doing this. But I can't hurt you like I know you've hurt Louis. I can't hurt you like that again, because I know hurting him hurts you. I can't look you in the eyes and see everything that I threw away because I fell for you. I'm not you, Harry. I'm not strong enough to hurt somebody I love to protect myself," he whispered helplessly.   
I stared at him, my mouth opening slightly.   
"Am I really that much of a horrible person to you?" I sniffed, and a wave of tears and hurt crashed down on me.  
I tried to dash for the bathroom, but Felix caught my wrist and pulled me back.   
"Fuck, Harry, no! You've got it so wrong! What I'm trying to say is that maybe you had the right idea, pushing Louis away. Maybe you got hurt a little less. And I know that you still hurt, but maybe you chose the better route. I don't care, though. I want to be your best friend because I want everything you can give me. Fuck, love, please don't cry," he begged, wiping away the tears that streaked down my cheeks with his thumbs.   
"What did I do to deserve you?" I croaked, "And why can't I repay you for everything you've done for me by loving you? Fuck, why can't I do that?"   
Felix sighed softly, his green eyes clouding with something I couldn't read.   
"Because, even if you're the one for me, I'm not the one for you," he murmured.  
I couldn't control the sobs that shook my body. I wasn't even sure why exactly I was crying.  
Because my best friend was in love with me and I couldn't return the feelings? Because he was such a fucking amazing person? Because I was such a fucking terrible person?  
I wasn't sure.  
He let me crowd into his space, fisting my hands in his shirt, pushing my face into his neck, inhaling the warm, comforting smell that was Felix.   
"Christ, I love you so much," I mumbled, "I do."   
"There are so many kinds of love, though," he added, "Our loves mean different things."  
"You know that I wish that they didn't. Felix, maybe...fuck, maybe we should try, shouldn't we? I want to try and you want it too, I know you do," I said, my eyes shining with a newfound hope.  
He smiled sadly and even that looked incredibly forced and pained.   
"Harry, you know that's a bad idea. You can't look me in the eyes and say that if we did try and Louis suddenly realized maybe he does have feelings for you, you can't say that you wouldn't immediately throw me away for him. And I know it's a slim chance of that happening, but even if it doesn't, I can't compete in something I know that I'll lose. Plus, love, you're so fragile right now. We didn't even fight and you had an anxiety attack. I can't risk your health for something I want, no matter how bad I, or both of us, want it. Look. When you go home and after you adjust to the real world and you and Louis sit down and have a nice, long talk, and after you heal more and you still want to try, we will, okay?" he murmured, tangling his fingers with mine and kissing my knuckles gently.   
I stared at him.   
"Felix, um. Do you think I could maybe be alone for a bit?" I asked, my voice coming out strangled.   
He squeezed my hands before letting go and kissing me on the forehead.   
"Just don't do anything to hurt yourself, okay, love?" he said softly.   
I watched him pull his shoes on and leave through blurry eyes.   
I made my way across the room to sit on his bed cross-legged. My eyes were full of burning tears that wouldn't fall. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream and claw at my wrists, I wanted to break something.   
But I couldn't. I didn't know why, but I couldn't.   
The intense, dark anger returned and boiled inside of my chest. I couldn't even get release by crying anymore and it was so, so infuriating.   
I stared at my scarred wrists, imaging the how perfectly straight and even new cuts would be. They would be orderly- the only organized thing in my life.   
I was hit by an overwhelming urge to simply destroy my body. I didn't care with what. I wanted to claw at my skin with my nails, or take something heavy and hit myself until I bruised. I wanted to feel pain, any pain other than the one in my heart.   
I wanted to cut my veins open and watch my own blood spill out until my mind went black and I had nothing left to bleed.   
I stood up to ransack the room and find anything that could be used to even scratch myself with.   
"Just don't do anything to hurt yourself, okay, love?" Felix had said, his voice part worried and part guarded so that I couldn't hear any other emotions.   
I collapsed back onto the bed and wrapped myself in his covers, tempted to scream his name until he came to get me.   
I couldn't cut or kill myself or anything that I wanted to do. Felix did so much for me; he sacrificed his own emotions for me. I couldn't let him down over something so trivial.  
But it wasn't really trivial, not to me. It was a constant, insistent ache that my body was desperate to release.   
As I slowly calmed down, the swirling anger faded and it was replaced by painfully intense guilt.   
What had I done to deserve Felix? He was such a perfect guy. He was willing to shove away the fact that he had bloody fallen in love with me just so that I could be happy. He was willing to wait forever if he had to, and he accepted the fact that he would probably always have to wait.   
Felix always knew what to say or what to do, when to be funny or to be serious, when enough was enough or when I could eat a little bit more. He knew me so well that it was a bit weird, but I knew that he was just extremely perceptive.   
I touched my mouth, remembering how it felt to kiss him.  
I remembered the way he had absolutely glowed afterwards until he came to the decision that we couldn't be together.   
I wondered if Felix had a breaking point. He took so much pressure off of my shoulders and it had to be a heavy weight. Felix was extraordinarily strong, but I was scared of what would happen if the weight ever became too much.   
Would he yell? Would he cry? Would he turn to drugs? Would he slip into the headspace that I sometimes did when I was too depressed to even move?   
I couldn't picture Felix doing any of that, and that was what really scared me.   
I had to have fallen asleep because I woke up to Felix crawling into his bed and tucking himself around me. The room was dark and I realized that I must have slept for a while. It had been daylight when I had fallen asleep.   
"I love you, you know. I don't deserve you," I whispered.   
His fingers combed through my hair and I pressed closer to him, soaking in his warmth.   
"You deserve so much more than me, love," he sighed, "You shouldn't have to deal with unrequited love so often."  
"Nice vocabulary," I yawned, nuzzling into his neck and wrapping my arm around his waist.   
I felt him shiver and my heart sank. The room was warm and I knew that he hadn't shivered from the cold.   
"But really, though. You deserve so much more than you think, Harry. Fuck, you don't deserve to be jerked around like a fucking ragdoll by Louis. I could make you so much happier, you know," Felix whispered, his voice rushed and urgent.   
I wanted to kiss him. I was so close to it, too. I could smell the faint scent of cherry on his breath from the cough drops he had been eating as he recovered from a nasty cold.   
His breath was gentle and steady.   
"I want to kiss you," I said softly, reaching up to tug lightly on his hair.   
Felix leaned forward a minuscule amount, his mouth barely brushing mine before he laid back.   
"No, Harry," he said quietly, "You don't want to kiss me. You just want to kiss Louis." 

 

Liam's POV 

After a long night full of tears and threats of suicide, Louis finally cried himself to sleep.  
I carried him to Harry's bed and gently deposited him, tucking the sheets around him. He felt a fraction lighter than I remembered.   
I headed back to where Niall and Zayn were sitting, close and tense on the sofa.   
I sighed as I sat down beside them.   
"I can't watch him be like this anymore," Zayn said, almost angrily, "He's going straight down the same path Harry did. Who knows if we'll stop by one day and find him swinging from some goddamned rope?"  
Niall gave a horrified squeak and I stared at Zayn, appalled.   
"I think he'd probably drink himself to death, actually. He's not brave enough to hang himself," Zayn said bitterly.   
"Jesus, Zayn, shut the fuck up, would you?" I snapped, "We don't need to hear that kind of shit. Louis is not going to kill himself because we won't let him."  
"You said that same thing about Harry and look where it got us!" Zayn yelled, jumping to his feet, "Don't say something that you can't carry out, Liam."   
I winced.   
"Calm down, Zayn," Niall said quietly, looking up at Zayn like a puppy that had been kicked, "We learned from our mistakes and we are going to correct them. We're not going to just sit back and watch like we did for Harry. You've got to have better expectations of us than that."   
Zayn blinked at him, his chest rising and falling as he breathed slowly, calming himself.   
"What should we do?" he finally asked, sitting down again.   
"I want to take him back to Doncaster. We can't always watch him and I think it'll be good for him to go home for a bit. Maybe his mum'll be able to turn him around. She is his mum after all," I explained.  
They nodded their approval.  
"I want to ask her to find him a psychiatrist or therapist or whatever he needs too. He isn't getting better keeping to himself," I added.  
"Is there a difference between a psychiatrist and a therapist?" Niall asked.  
I shrugged.   
"Regardless, he needs to open up to somebody. He won't talk to us because we're too closely related to his problems in his mind. i dunno. It's a theory. Staying silent is eating at him and I don't want to witness him break down again like he just did," I said.  
We all shuddered.  
They'd probably broken several laws when they had come speeding back from visiting Harry.   
They had rushed in right as Louis was screaming how badly he wanted to die especially loudly.   
I had bruises forming around my body from when he had used me as a punching bag. I tentatively pressed a spot on my chest and flinched.   
"I just can't stop thinking...you know, how Louis used to be the life of our group. He was always the one to cheer us up or raise our spirits when we felt down. And now, he's just...he's not Louis any more. A few months ago, if we told him he would be like this, he would have laughed his head off," Niall said sadly.   
"Harry used to be happy too, you know. He used to know how to smile," Zayn said.  
"Do you remember when us three were convinced that they were together behind our backs?" I asked, smiling slightly at the irony of it.   
"I think even their own mums were convinced that they were in a relationship," Niall snorted.   
"Wouldn't that have been nice? We could have avoided all of this," Zayn grumbled.   
I ended up calling Jay a short while later and explaining what had happened. She didn't seem entirely surprised.  
"I've hardly talked to him lately. I can understand how the poor girl felt. And he slept with- tried to sleep with a guy?" she asked, sounding bemused.  
"Yeah. I don't really understand what goes through his mind anymore. Knowing the way he's been acting, it made perfect sense to him," I sighed.   
Jay sounded so upset. I had no idea just how little she knew about what her son had been dealing with.  
She knew about the excessive drinking and the lack of communication, but that was about the extent of her knowledge.   
"So, I'll bring him to you whenever he wakes up tomorrow and we can go from there. Just make sure that the girls know to be careful around him. He can be pretty unpredictable and I don't want him to accidentally hurt their feelings," I warned.  
"I'll talk to them. I think that only the littler girls need to know not to bother their big brother. The older ones will probably already know," Jay said.  
I agreed and we exchanged a few more words before hanging up.   
I went to Harry's room to check on Louis and make sure that he essentially was still alive.   
He was fast asleep. He looked peaceful- an emotion that he simply didn't know anymore.   
As I studied him, I realized how small he was. He was the oldest of us and probably the leader of the group when it came down to it. But as I looked at him, he looked so small and vulnerable. There were lines on his face that hadn't been there just a few months prior. Even as he slept, there were dark bruises under his eyes that hinted at exhaustion.   
I knew that he felt scared and alone. He had been thrown head-first into a huge mess without any warning or any information.   
I didn't know how I could be there for him. He refused company and getting him to talk was useless. The only thing I could do was hand him off to his mum and hope for the best.  
I pulled a blanket up over him from where he must have kicked it to the bottom of the bed. I wondered if he had had a nightmare and woke up scared and alone and without protection as he had wrestled the blanket off of him in a fit of terror.   
"Lou," I said softly, helplessly.   
I made my way out of the room, closing the door quietly. I found Zayn asleep with his head on Niall's lap.   
Niall looked up and shrugged.  
"Zayn does know that there's an extra room, right?" I asked.  
"Yeah. He said that you could have it," Niall said.   
"I think I'll stay here with you guys. Being alone doesn't sound appealing," I explained, wrinkling my nose.   
Niall nodded in agreement.   
He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Liam? Will you be completely honest with me for a moment?"  
"Yeah, of course, Ni," I said, "I always am."   
He sighed.   
"What do you think will happen when Harry comes back? Do you think he and Louis'll ever be friends again?" he asked.  
He seemed scared of my answer and I had to admit that I was afraid as well. I didn't want to venture so far into the unknown.  
"Christ, I don't have a clue. Lou's going to try to make Harry tell him everything, but I guess the question is what Harry'll do. He's a bit unpredictable when it comes to Louis. One second he'll refuse to hear his name and the next he'll be begging to know how Lou's doing. But I don't know about the friends thing. Definitely nowhere near as close as they used to be. They're both just too damaged from each other. They'll have to put up with each other, but I have no idea how friendly they'll be," I said slowly.   
"I'm just scared, I guess. What if they can't stand to be around each other?" Niall asked.   
"Then we lock them in a room together until they can. I'm being serious, Niall," I said as he snorted.   
"Alright, Li. Goodnight," he yawned.  
I smiled as his eyes flickered closed. I got up and got a few spare blankets and pillows and laid them around for whenever he and Zayn woke up cold or uncomfortable.   
In the morning, I found Louis making tea. He didn't turn when I entered the kitchen.   
"Lou?" I asked quietly.   
He spared me a quick glance before turning back to his drink.   
"How're you feeling?" I asked.  
He shrugged.  
"We're taking you to your mum's. Don't even fight me about it. You can't be by yourself any more and being in this place isn't doing you any good. You just need to get away," I said, "So go pack your stuff and we'll leave when you're ready."   
Niall and Zayn had already left for their respective homes, wishing me luck with Louis.   
Louis shrugged again and shuffled out of the kitchen. I heard the door to Harry's room shut a few moments later.   
His eyes had been so emotionless. They weren't even blue; they had been a dull, defeated grey.   
I was scared.   
I knew that he had truly given up.   
He slept, or at least pretended to sleep, for the entire drive to Doncaster. He listened to music to avoid having to listen to me.   
He slowly slid out of the car when we pulled up to his house. His lips didn't even twitch while I remembered how he had always grinned madly when he had come home before.   
I remembered when he had goofily danced with Harry while improved an incredibly random song about home.   
Harry had laughed and laughed, looking at Louis like he was his entire world.   
And that had been before he had fallen in love.  
I wondered if Louis remembered it. I wondered if he thought about it too as we hauled his suitcases up to the door.   
He didn't say a word and no emotion so much as flickered in his eyes.   
Jay pulled us inside and greeted us both with tight, long hugs. Louis let himself be all but suffocated but he didn't hug her back. I saw the brief flash of hurt and worry when she pulled away.  
Lottie came forward and tried to hug him as well, but he pushed her away. It was a bit rough and she stumbled back, her expression incredulous.   
"Leave me alone. I want to be alone," he growled.   
He stormed up the stairs and a door slammed a moment later.  
"Don't take it personally, girls," I sighed, "He's just not doing well."   
"Girls, go do something while I talk to Liam. You can visit with him later," Jay said, shooing them away.  
She led me into the kitchen and I accepted the offer of tea.   
"So how is he? Not well from what I saw in the five seconds before he went to his room," she sighed.  
"Yeah. He hasn't said a word to me the entire day. He's just so...empty looking. And it scares me because I can remember several days when Harry looked identical to that," I said.  
Jay nodded sadly.  
"I feel horrible about everything that's happened. Harry's like a son to me, you all are," she said, "And Anne calls me all the time, too upset to hardly speak. She's just having trouble with realizing everything that happened. I'm having trouble dealing with how my son has ruined himself and he's only a fraction as worse as Harry."  
"Sometimes I wake up and wonder if this whole thing hasn't been a dream and Harry and Louis are going to come running in, still knowing how to smile and laugh," I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face, "They're my best friends, your sons. It's killing me how helpless I feel."   
Phoebe came running in.  
"Mum! Louis shouted at me! And he swore!" she cried indignantly.  
"I told you not to pester him, remember? He probably will shout at you for seemingly no reason, okay? You just have to leave him be. What did he say?" Jay asked.   
Phoebe bit her lip, apparently wondering if she had to censor whatever he had said.  
"Well, he told me to bugger off and to um...leave him...um, the fuck alone," she squeaked.  
I raised my eyebrows. Louis loved his sisters a lot and he was always careful not to swear around them.   
"Okay. I'll talk to him about it. Now go and don't go to him unless he asks you to," Jay said sternly.  
Phoebe nodded and pranced off.  
"I don't think that he's ever sworn around them before. He hardly even cares about anything anymore, not even the girls," Jay said, her voice thick.  
"His mind is all over the place. He can't sort out his thoughts that tell him not to swear in front of them. Speaking of thoughts, do you know any therapists or like psychiatrists?" I asked, "Louis definitely needs to go to one."   
"I can look around. I agree with that though. If Liam Payne can't get my son to open up, he needs professional help," Jay joked.   
"I said to Niall and Zayn that I think Louis doesn't want to talk to us because we're so closely related to what he doesn't want to talk about," I explained.  
Jay nodded.   
I stayed until dinner, talking to her and filling her in on things she didn't know about what had been going on with Louis.  
He refused to come down to eat, so she took some up to him. She came back with less than half of it eaten and a sad expression on her face.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you guys know, I've decided that the third book will be called 'Untouchable'.   
> I still have a ways to go on this one, but I like to plan ahead.  
> Love you!

Louis's POV

I spent a lot of my time laying around, literally.   
When my mum forced me out of bed in the late afternoon, I would shuffle downstairs and collapse on the sofa until I went back to bed.   
I didn't really talk to anybody besides the odd snarl at somebody getting too close. The girls were instructed to keep their distance and I was never in the mood to open up to my mum.   
I was curled up under my duvet, trying vainly to shield the sun from my eyes.   
My mind was in the middle of this weird fog. I never really thought about anything other than the basic necessities. I liked it that way. It hurt less.   
Lottie had made the mistake of coming into my room one night. She had sat on the edge of my bed and tried to talk to me. I had been ignoring her in favor of staring at the ceiling until-  
"Louis, you need to talk. Nobody knows what happened with you and Eleanor and personally, I want to know how you got that awful bruise on your eye," she had said.   
That had triggered something inside of the blurriness in my mind.   
I wasn't entirely sure what exactly I had said to her- screamed at her, probably, but she had backed out of my room, eyes wide and teary.   
I didn't care. I had gotten rid of her and I slipped back into the comforting fog.   
The bruise was fading and so was the intense mental agony that it brought with it. I slipped further and further inside of myself, so far that I could hardly hear what people spoke to me.   
I was never hungry, but I obediently picked at whatever food was shoved in front of me.  
I knew that I should have been scared. I was terrifying my family and my friends, mum had said.   
I didn't care. Let them hurt, I thought, it's nothing compared to what I have been through.   
Roughly twice a day, I stood in the shower for more than an hour, desperately scrubbing at my skin.  
Despite the haze in my mind, I could still feel the filth of sweat that wasn't my own on my skin, I could still feel pain shooting up my back as I was intruded upon, I could still feel the throbbing of my eye as I was hit for being scared.   
I could feel it all and I tried to wash away the disgusting feeling on my skin.   
It usually ended with me huddling in the corner of the bath, whimpering and shaking as cold water ran down my skin.   
I didn't know if Liam had told anybody about what had happened. The boys knew, I was sure, and so did Eleanor, but outside of that, I didn't know.   
I had a feeling that my mum didn't know. If it was up to me, nobody would ever find out what a disgusting piece of filth I was.  
I often traced the slowly fading scar on my arm. My razor would catch my eye and temptation would seize me. It was a release, I had read, a release of pain and hurt and anger and overwhelming feelings. I needed a release. The fog could only cover so much. But then I never could bring myself to press the razor against my skin. I just physically couldn't.   
My door banged open but I didn't bother turning over to see who it was.   
"Louis William Tomlinson," a voice growled.  
Ah, shit.  
"I have no idea what the fuck is going on with you, but you're scaring everybody half out of their mind and I haven't heard from you in three months. So you better tell me what the fuck is going on," Stan snarled.  
I sighed and rolled over.   
When I faced him, I realized that he looked more worried than angry. I didn't really care. I just wanted him to go away.   
"What is wrong with you, Louis? You look like you've been dragged to hell and back," he snapped.   
I really did, actually. My beard was much thicker than I usually liked and my hair was messy and getting long. The bruise on my eye didn't help.   
"I have been," I croaked, my voice scratchy from lack of use, "You've got no fucking idea."  
He pulled out the chair from my desk and sat down next to my bed.  
"Then give me an idea! I haven't talked to you in months and suddenly I get a call today from your frenzied mother telling me that you're acting like you're fucking brain-dead and nobody knows why!" Stan barked.  
"I'd prefer to be brain-dead," I murmured absently.   
I didn't want him to be with me. He was disrupting the peaceful cloud that I had carefully pulled around me, blocking out my emotions.   
Stan scoffed.  
"Christ, Louis, is this about Eleanor breaking it off with you? Cause you kind of deserved it mate, the way you were treating her, the way you've been treating everybody," he said.  
"Go away," I mumbled, turning to face the wall, "I don't feel well."   
"Don't use the bullshit on me, Tomlinson. Fuck, I'm worried sick about you, everybody is! Look at you! You've lost a shit-ton of weight, you look like you haven't slept in days even though that's all you do apparently, you've got a mysterious fucking black eye, and you won't talk to anybody! What's wrong, Louis? Please!" he sighed.  
I stiffened.  
"Get the fuck out of my room," I growled, my voice low and dangerous, "Before I make you."  
I would, and Stan knew it.  
"Whatever, Louis," he growled, standing up and knocking the chair over.   
He cursed, but he didn't pick it up. Instead, he left and slammed the door closed.  
I sighed and slipped back into the fog. Through it, I could hear faint voices trickling in from the kitchen, but I quickly tuned them out.   
The one thing that was impossible to numb was the constant ache and need for a drink. I craved alcohol every second and I would admit to having dreams about it. I was addicted and I knew it. I needed it.   
My door opened again. I heard rustling for a few minutes before objects landed with a muffled thump on my bed.  
"Get dressed," Stan ordered.   
"I thought I told you to get the fuck out," I growled.   
"We're going to a psychiatrist, whether you like it or not," he continued.   
I shot up in my bed, my mouth pulling back in a snarl.  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not going to a fucking shrink or whatever! I'm perfectly sane!" I cried furiously.   
"I'll disagree with that," he drawled, "Now get dressed. We're going."  
"No."   
I threw the clothes back at him childishly.   
"I'll dress you like a fucking child if you don't do it yourself, I swear to God, Louis," he threatened, "And I will carry you to the blood car if I have too."  
I stared at him.  
He shrugged, marching over to me.  
I didn't make it easy for him. He struggled to pull the shirt over my head and fit my limp arms through.   
Stan decided that forcing me into jeans was too difficult and he let me stay in trackpants.   
He shoved shoes on my feet.  
"I'm not fucking going. I'm going to stay here," I spat.  
"I'll carry you, Louis. I don't care," he growled.   
I tried to scramble into the safety of my sheets, but he caught me around the waist. He picked me up into a fireman's carry.   
I gave an indignant squawk.  
"Put me down! You fucking bastard, let me go! I'm not going! I'm not going! Let me go! I'm not going!" I screamed as he carried me through the house.   
I pretended not to see Lottie and Fizzy look up from the sofa and the sadness on their faces as their older brother was forced to see a therapist.   
I beat and clawed at Stan's back and kicked ferociously, screaming my protests all the while.   
"Jesus fucking Christ, Lou," he grunted, struggling to open a door.  
"I'll have him back in under two hours!" he called behind him.  
Stan dumped me unceremoniously into the car and immediatly put on the child safety locks so that I couldn't get out.   
I scowled the entire way. It was a decent drive too.   
"I fucking hate you, Stanley," I hissed.   
"It was your mum's idea. I'm just the muscle to get you out," he said calmly, "But I'm doing it for your own good. You're messed up, I'll admit that, and you're scaring me. I'm getting you help."  
"I don't need any fucking help! I need Harry!" I shouted, my eyes widening when I realized that I had let something out.   
Stan gave me a look but he didn't comment.   
He finally pulled up to what looked like an office building and he parked.  
"Look. I'll carry you in there if I have to. But if anybody gets a picture, you're screwed. Plus, random strangers don't need to see you throwing a tantrum," he said easily.  
I got out of the car and stormed inside. He led me to the right door and I stepped into a waiting room.  
The secretary looked up and gave us a small smile.  
"You'll be visited shortly," she said before returning to whatever paper she was looking at.   
I tapped my foot impatiently, debating about how quickly Stan would catch me if I were to make a run for it.   
"Mr. Tomlinson?"   
I swore under my breath.   
I looked up to see an older man in a door way.  
"Come with me, please," he instructed.  
I stood and shot Stan the worst glare I could, flipping him off as I walked away. I heard a woman give an indignant scoff so I raised my other hand and flipped Stan off with both hands.   
I followed the man as he went into a room. He gestured for me to sit down on a sofa.   
I stayed standing and he shrugged.  
"Good afternoon. I'm Dr. Benson," he said, holding his hand out.  
I didn't shake it.  
He shrugged again.  
"Okay. So I'm curious, why are you here? I already know from your mother's phone call, but why do you think you're here?" he asked, leaning back in a black office chair, the kind that spun.  
"Because my mum is an idiot and my friend is a fucking asshole," I snapped.   
"Why?" Dr. Benson asked.  
"Because I don't need a fucking therapist! I'm fine!" I shouted.   
He nodded slowly.  
"Why do they think you need me?" he asked.  
"I don't know. I don't want to talk about the shitstorm that is my life and they think that I'm going insane or something," I grumbled.   
"Why?" he asked.  
"I don't fucking know! Why the hell do you keep asking 'why'? I don't know, Christ!" I snapped.  
"Okay. Well, what do you want to talk about?" he asked.  
I snorted.  
"I don't want to talk. I want to go to bed," I sighed, running my hands through my hair.  
"Well, we've got an hour. We've got to talk about something," he said, "What's your favorite football team?"   
I stared at him.  
"Aren't you supposed to ask me some deep shit questions or something? Like what happened to make me so insane or whatever?" I asked.  
Dr. Benson shrugged for a third time.  
"Is that what you want to talk about?" he asked, "I was trying to make things comfortable for you, but if you want, of course we can talk about that."  
I decided that I hated him and that he really pissed me off.  
"I'm not going to talk," I growled.  
"Okay," he replied.  
I stood and stared at the ground for what felt like years. I looked at the clock. Five minutes.  
"Fuck this. I'm done," I snarled, wheeling towards the door.   
The only thing he had to say was, "Okay! See you next week!"

 

Harry's POV

I sat on the bed and watched Felix silently. He roamed the room, tossing clothes and various items into a suitcase.   
He was leaving.   
He had been evaluated by a psychiatrist and deemed mentally well enough to check out.   
He hasn't seemed totally happy about leaving, but I had smiled and congratulated him until he fell asleep. Then I had cried for hours.   
It was a week earlier than he had originally thought that he would leave. Every time I breathed, reality punched me in the gut and taunted me, questioning what I would do without my rock to lean on.   
I didn't know what I would do. I was scared out of my mind and I didn't want him to go.   
"They're arranging for me to get driven to the airport," Felix said quietly.   
His family was still in California, though they were moving back in the near future. He still had to fly out to be with them anyways.   
I had told him that he could live in my flat, but he had given me an odd look and declined.   
"Can I come?" I asked.   
Felix shrugged.  
"It's probably better if you didn't. I wouldn't want any people to recognize you and I think you'll just be better off staying here," he replied.  
"I want to spend as much time as I can with you," I muttered.   
"You're acting like you're never going to see me again, love. You can have visitors twice a week now and I'll be moving back here in a few days. I'll visit as often as they'll let me, okay?" he said,   
"It's not the same. What if I really need you?" I grumbled.  
"Ask if you can use a phone to call me. They'll let you if you explain why and that you're calling me. Harry, you're going to have to get used to me not being here all the time anyways. It's a bit of practice for real life," he said.  
"Fuck real life. I want to stay here forever, just you and me," I complained.   
Felix gave me a tiny smile and I hated knowing that he was hurting too, but for different reasons.  
"Can't always get what you want, popstar," he said.  
He resumed throwing things into his suitcase. I noticed him toss one of my shirts in, but it didn't really matter. We wore each other's clothes all the time. I was fine with him taking a shirt, provided I got to keep one of his as well.   
"I'm well aware of that," I snapped bitterly.   
Felix looked back to me and he straightened up and walked over.   
"Harry," he sighed, his voice pleading, "You know that I want to leave you even less than you want me to."   
"That's not possible," I said.   
He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. My heart plummeted. Just fifteen minutes were left.   
"I feel like I always end up losing people. I've lost Louis and now I'm losing you," I mumbled, "It isn't fair."  
"Harry, you're not losing me!" he exclaimed.   
I looked at him and shrugged.  
"What happens when you leave? You can visit for an hour twice a week, but I feel like everything will be different. Like eventually you'll just stop coming. And what about when I leave too? When will I ever see you? Felix, I can't live without you, I don't think," I wailed.   
His eyes burned into mine, bright and fiery with intense emotions. Sometimes I would catch him looking at me in a similar way. It reminded me of how I always felt when I looked at Louis.   
"I'm in too deep to not visit you, love," he whispered, "And fuck, Harry, when you get out of here, you'll see me so much that you'll get sick of me."   
"Not likely," I said.  
"We could get a place together," he said softly, his mouth twisting into a small smile.  
"Or we could run away from everything. We could just go somewhere where I wouldn't get recognized and we could just live," I suggested.   
"We could go somewhere where I wouldn't have to compete for you," he murmured, his eyes clouding.   
I wondered sometimes just how badly Felix was hurting. He was good at building walls that I couldn't get past, but there were moments when they weakened just a tiny bit. It made me feel sick that I couldn't do a thing for him, especially with how much he had helped me.   
"We could go somewhere where all of this shit in our lives never happened," I added.   
"We should get a place in Germany," he said.  
"Why Germany?" I asked, snorting.   
"I've always wanted to go there. I took like two years of German in school, so we should be able to survive at least. But think about it, just the two of us on some crazy adventure," he said wistfully.  
I smiled sadly.   
"But I'm in a band and I'll be busy all the time when I go back," I said, "Plus, we've got loads of fans in Germany. I wanna go some place where I can just be Harry and not whoever the media decides I am."   
"All the more reason to just run away," Felix said, "We could live in a cave or something and get a few cows to raise for food and milk."   
I laughed and he did as well.  
"The amusing part is, is that I can see you actually going ahead with this. You'll be visiting me and you'll just go 'Oh, hey, popstar, our luxurious cave is ready and guess what? We've got a few bats as roommates!'" I teased.   
Felix swatted me.   
"Maybe I will," he snorted, "It'll be a five-star cave."  
"It'll have to be. I'm accustomed to luxury, Felix, so you better make it a nice cave," I said, putting on a posh accent.  
"Of course," he cried, "Only the best for you, my dear."   
I grinned at him but then I saw the luggage out of the corner of my eye and my smile faded.   
"We should do it," I sighed, laying my head on his shoulder.   
He wrapped his arms around me and absentmindedly rubbed circles into my hip with his thumb.   
"If it wasn't for you, I'd be so glad to get out of this place, you know. Now I'm just sad," he murmured.   
"Can't you just like, I don't know, say that you aren't ready?" I complained.   
He shook his head.   
"I think they'd know that I was lying," he replied, "Plus, I'm ready to leave here. I'm just not ready to leave you."   
"Then put me in a bag and take me with you," I grumbled, tilting my head up so I could look at him.   
"I don't think you'd fit, love. Plus, you know you're not ready to leave," he said.  
"I'm not ready for you to leave either," I whined.   
"I'll never really leave you. I'll be with you- in here," he said, placing his hand on my chest.   
I laughed.  
"That is literally the cheesiest thing that you have ever said," I snorted.   
"I've heard worse," he protested.   
Felix glanced at the clock again and sighed when he saw that he needed to leave.   
He stood, knees cracking, and turned to face me.   
His expression was an array of different emotions. I didn't want to look too hard; I was scared of what I would see.   
I stood as well.   
"Do you need help carrying things?" I asked quietly.   
"No. Most of my shit was shipped ahead of time, remember? I've just got this," he replied, gesturing to the suitcase, "I'll just say goodbye now."  
I couldn't help it; my eyes burned as they filled with tears.  
"Aw, Harry, don't cry, love," he cooed, pulling me into a tight hug, "You'll see me soon enough."  
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut tightly in a vain attempt to quit crying.   
"I love you, you know," I murmured in his ear.  
He tensed slightly, but relaxed with a soft sigh.   
"Yeah. I love you too," he replied.   
Felix kept his arms tight around me for several minutes until we heard a knock on our door. We knew that it was a staff member, knocking to alert him that it was time to leave.   
He pulled away and stared at me, his green eyes boring into mine.  
"I'll see you soon, okay?" he finally said.  
I nodded, blinking rapidly.   
Felix picked up the handle of his suitcase and opened the door. He was about to walk out when I grabbed his wrist.   
"Wait, Felix," I said urgently.  
"Yeah?" he asked.  
Without really thinking, I stepped forwards and kissed him hard. His hands instinctively came up to tangle in my hair. He caught himself and pushed me back gently, grabbing my wrists and removing my hands from where they were cupping his face.  
Felix looked so sad, unbearably so. His expression was so longing, but only for a brief moment before a mask covered it.   
"Don't do this to me, Harry," he whispered.  
He let go of my hands and walked out without another word.


	25. Chapter 25

Louis's POV 

Needless to say, Stan tried to wrestle me back inside of the psychiatrist's office.   
Dr. Benson came out and said politely that he had permitted me to leave and that Stan could take me home.   
Stan had looked between us skeptically and so had I. But I had gone alone with it.   
I promptly locked the door to my room and spent the rest of the day under my covers once I got home.   
I had ignored the protests of my mum and Stan. I just needed to be alone in my foggy mind.   
The next two appointments with Dr. Benson went in a similar fashion.   
Stan would literally drag me inside and I would usually storm out no more than a half hour later.  
He talked to me about simple things. Footie, my family, my favorite foods or colors or really anything basic.   
I didn't understand it and I kept myself heavily guarded.   
I didn't trust him.   
"Get up, Louis," became Stan's greeting.   
"Go away," became mine, muffled under a pillow or blanket.   
Of course I ended up being physically dragged out of bed and forced into clothes I didn't want to put on.   
Stan didn't have to quite carry me out kicking and screaming, but I always voiced my protests loudly.  
"I don't need to go to this fucking shrink! He isn't helping me a bit! I don't even like him! He's such a fucking bastard, talks to me about footie and food the whole bloody time," I drawled, ignoring the looks from my mum when I swore.  
I nibbled half-heatedly on a piece of toast before throwing it away and jerking on a beanie.   
"This isn't up for discussion, Louis," my mum said warily.   
I walked out and Stan followed me.   
We drove in silence until he parked in the carpark of the office building.  
"Please tell me you can see what shit this is," I grumbled, putting my feet up on his dashboard.   
He gave me a look, similar to the exasperated ones my mum gave me.  
"It's not shit, Louis. Like it or not, you're going to keep going until you get whatever you've got bottled up inside of you sorted out," he said.  
"Look at you, being such a fucking philosopher. Why don't you be my therapist?" I snapped.   
"Listen, Louis. I've said this before and I'll say it again. Nobody has any idea what's happened to you. If your bandmates know, they're not saying anything. We just know that apparently you had some kind of breakdown and you've turned into some kind of fucking living ghost. You're scaring us all and Christ, Louis, you may not think you do, but you need help! You're ruining yourself, just like Harry did!" he hissed.  
Stan knew immediatly that he had crossed a line.   
"Louis," he sighed, eyeing me uneasily.   
"Fuck you, Stan. You know nothing about what Harry went through and you know nothing about what I've went through," I growled.   
I must have seemed pretty malicious, because Stan shrank back slightly.   
I didn't give him another opportunity to talk. I got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as I could.   
I was late, so I was ushered immediatly back into Dr. Benson's office.  
As usual, I stood. I never sat down.   
"How are you today, Louis?" he asked brightly.   
"I'd rather not be here," I said easily, "I'm tired."  
"You say that you're tired a lot. Do you not sleep well?" he asked.  
"I spend most of my time sleeping," I said drily, "I suppose I'm just tired of all this shit in my life."   
"What shit in your life?" he asked.   
I eyed him and I didn't respond. I could answer basic questions like what my favorite shape was, but I wasn't going to answer that question. The list would talk all day to get through.   
"You know, I find it easier to communicate when whomever I'm conversing with speaks back," Dr. Benson said.   
The words sounded slightly mocking, but his tone was anything but. He sounded as if he were simply stating a fact.  
For some reason, that angered me. I stalked up to his desk where he sat, with pristinely folded hands.  
"You. You're part of the shit in my life. I don't want to be here and you're fucking blasé attitude irritates the shit out of me," I snarled.   
"Would you prefer it if I yelled at you?" he asked calmly.   
"I don't fucking know!" I shouted, "I'd probably get mad at that too! I'm mad at everything!"  
Dr. Benson nodded slowly, but he didn't speak.   
I glared at him, my arms crossed and my teeth bared in a defensive snarl.   
"Have you ever tried writing?" he asked finally, "You feel all these emotions all the time. Have you ever tried writing to let them out?"  
I stared at him.   
"I write. Letters. You know. To Harry," I mumbled.   
"Do you send them?" he asked.  
I was startled. I had no idea how he had understood me.   
"No. Even if I did, he probably wouldn't get them. He doesn't want contact with me and the staff probably would send the letters back," I said.  
Alarmed, I felt hot, frustrated tears prickle in my eyes and I blinked them back rapidly.   
"Well, that really sucks. You want to talk to him badly, don't you?" Dr. Benson observed.   
"More than anything! Fuck, I've just got all these questions and thoughts and confusion in my mind and I can't let it out because I need Harry for that! I just need to see him. I need to know that he's okay. I can't sleep, I always feel like if I sleep, I'll miss something and when I wake up, he'll be dead or something," I wailed.   
I froze.   
Fuck Dr. Benson for pulling that out of me.  
He didn't seem smug. He just seemed thoughtful.   
"I can see why you're so upset," he said simply.   
I crossed my arms tightly against my chest. But it was like a dam. Once words trickled out, I was weakened. I could feel the dam creaking in protest of the heavy weight against it.   
"You turned to drinking," Dr. Benson commented.  
I nodded, biting my lip and pulling my arms even more tightly to myself.   
"It helped. To block out all my emotions and thoughts. It was wonderful to forget for just a little while," I whispered.   
"What's the biggest thing that you want to know from him?" he asked.   
The dam broke.   
"I just want to know why it has to be me! Why did he have to fall in love with me of all people? He can have anybody in the entire world and he chose me! Why did he have to do that? There's nothing special about me, besides that I'm famous! And he's famous too, so there really isn't anything particularly lovable about me! I just want to know what I did that made him choose me! Why did it fucking have to be me? Why do I have to be the one that can't shake this guilt or this nausea or this weight of knowing that I almost killed my best friend? Why do I have to be the one who goes nearly insane when he tries to sleep with a guy and his fiancée breaks it off with him? Why did it have to be me?"  
And with that, I collapsed on the couch and I cried. I bawled, huge, ugly sobs wracking my body.  
"I don't want this anymore!" I screamed at one point, yanking at my hair.   
"Please, I want to leave," I sniffled after a good half hour of crying.   
Dr. Benson nodded solemnly.   
"Thank you for opening up, Louis," he said gently.  
Stan's eyes widened when he took in my disheveled state and he put his arm around me as we walked outside.   
We sat in his car in a choking silence. My hands shook and my head pounded.   
"Stan? Fuck, Stan, I need a drink. Please, can you take me to get a drink? I'm begging you, please, I need a drink so bad," I groaned.   
He cast me a doubtful glance.  
"Louis, you're not allowed to drink," he said.  
"Please, Stan, I'll do anything, please, oh God, I really need a drink, you don't even know. I'll get on my fucking knees and beg, I need a drink so bad Stan, I'm going to explode!" I begged.   
Stan sucked in a shaky breath. I was putting him in a terrible position and I knew it. But every fiber of my body screamed for a drink.   
"I hate you," he muttered.  
Before I knew it, we were outside of a bar. He gritted his teeth and refused to look at me.   
"Go. I'll stay here. I can't watch you do this to yourself," he said, his voice thick.  
I all but vaulted out of the car.  
One, two, three shots of something I had mumbled quickly. They burned wonderfully down my throat and relief flooded through my body.  
Vodka, then whiskey. Then another shot of vodka.   
I was drinking too much too fast, the bartender warned. I glared viciously at him and motioned for him to fill the shot glass.  
My vision started to swim and a beautiful cloud descended upon the raw pain in my chest.  
"Kid, I can't serve you anymore," the bartender finally said, "You're going to be pissing pure alcohol for a week."  
I flipped him off.  
"G'na go get m' friend," I slurred, satisfied, "S'ya babe."  
I tottered out.   
Stan was still sitting in the car.   
He eyed me with disgust as I flopped into the car.  
"Whoopsie!" I giggled as I elbowed him.  
"This is sick," he growled, "You need alcohol to function, don't you?"  
I frowned at him and poked his cheek.  
"Don't be a downer, Stan," I whined, "Party! Live a li'l."  
He shook his head.  
"Why'd I let you convince me to let you do this?" he groaned.   
"Cause your my besht...my best friend, baby doll! Ya know, Harry was my best friend but you're better," I snickered, "Will you take me to yours, pumpkin? My mummy doesn't like me drinking."  
"Louis, you're twenty-one. You're legal. I shouldn't have to hide the fact that you're drinking. You're so fucked up, mate, Jesus fucking Christ," he said, his voice strained.  
He was crying, I realized.  
"Stanley's crying!" I crowed, giggly hysterically, "Big baby!"   
"Shut the fuck up, Louis!" he shouted, loud enough to make me draw back.  
"Meanie." 

 

Harry's POV

I went on a complete autopilot.   
I ate the bare minimum. I spoke as little as I had to. Each one of my movements was instinctive, with no thought behind it.   
I worked out mindlessly. Sit-ups, push-ups, running, weight machines. The burn in my muscles felt so good.   
I stayed clear of the punching bag. It seemed to mocked me. It couldn't replace Felix, the one who I had always swung at before. Boxing seemed like it would feel lonely if I tried it.   
I had moved for a second time, into a single room. I couldn't bear a different room.  
But at night, I sat up and stared out of the window at the courtyard behind the building.   
I couldn't shake the guilt that sat heavily in my stomach. Because I knew all too well how Felix felt and I had still kissed him for my own selfish purposes. I had used him and I felt sick all the time because of it.   
I couldn't say why exactly I had kissed him. Maybe it was because I was so scared of being lonely after he would leave. Maybe because I wanted desperately to love him like he loved me. I didn't really know for sure.  
I just knew how dejected he had looked right before he had walked out. I knew how badly I had hurt him.   
When I was by myself in my room- it felt weird to say mine and not ours- I would struggle to control the anxiety threatening to overtake me.   
What if Felix never came back to visit me? What if I had fucked our friendship up?   
I dreaded the day that he had promised to visit. Part of me was terrified that he would never walk through my door. The other part assured me that he would, he was Felix. He would come.  
But how far could Felix be pushed until I broke him?  
Aside from the first few weeks of rehab, the urge to cut myself had never been so strong. I snapped rubber bands against my skin as hard as I could and I dug my nails into my arms until they broke the skin.   
I was really jittery, somebody had commented during a group therapy session.   
I had given her a blank look and had resumed picking at my nails.   
I had gone to group therapy a few times before, but I had never really felt the need to. Felix was enough for me.   
Since I was without Felix, I went because I felt so horribly alone. I needed something to fill the gaping hole in my heart but nobody could do that but him.   
I never really talked during the group therapy. I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn't be able to stop.   
I felt myself dangling off the edge of a cliff. If I fell, I'd slip into that mindset that I knew had always terrified Felix. It was the one that brought rocks to sit on my chest and a gag to tie around my mouth until I was unable to move or speak. It was the one that blew dark thoughts into my ear, whispering temptations that I wasn't strong enough to resist.   
Felix told me that my eyes went glassy and lifeless whenever I was like that. I looked dead, he said, barely breathing under my sheets and not moving.   
I walked the edge of the cliff, slipping and just catching myself on occasion.   
"Hello, darling," my mum murmured.   
I was curled up in an armchair, facing the window just like I always had before I had talked to the boys. I didn't want to talk to them. I didn't want to talk to anybody but Felix.   
"Felix called me," she said gently.   
I immediatly straightened up and stared at her hard.   
"He can't come today," she continued.   
And, oh. It was like Felix himself had pried my fingertips off of the edge of the cliff. There, I was tumbling down into a black hole. My mouth was tightened shut and a weight was placed on my chest. Blackness cupped its icy cold hands around my ear and started to hiss its dark thoughts into my mind.   
"Baby, he told me that he really did try to come and that the fact he isn't here had nothing to do with what happened before he left. Apparently his family isn't moving back for another few days and they wouldn't let him leave separately. That's exactly what he said. What happened, darling? Did you two have an argument?"  
I didn't answer her. I couldn't answer her. I had never shut her out like I had the boys. It probably scared her, but I didn't see or hear or feel.   
Black, inky tendrils of something to dark to process wrapped around my limbs and settled into my bones. They tightened around my mind until there, everything faded away and it was just me sitting in a black room. No noise, no thoughts, no feelings. Numbness.   
My mum had to have left at some point and the lads probably visited as well.   
I could only imagine the sadness in their hearts as they saw me retract back to what I had been on the first day of rehab.   
I couldn't say if I ate or if I even used the toilet. My memory was restricted by tight black ropes. I never remembered anything from when I slipped under.   
I woke up sweating and unable to breath. I scrambled for my inhaler and fell out of my bed in doing so.  
I landed with a wheezy grunt and I put the inhaler in my mouth and breathed in.   
I crawled shakily to the bathroom and I laid down on the floor. The tile felt deliciously cool against my hot skin.   
I felt like a was going to vomit and I struggled to will the nausea away. There was nothing good about throwing up if it wasn't intentional.   
But oh God that nightmare had been so terrifyingly real. I muffled a low groan with my hands as memories slammed back into my mind.   
Felixswinging  
Knockedoverthechairwasknockedover  
Danglingfeetcreakingrope  
Screamingwho'sscreamingI'mscreaming  
Lifelesseyesbluemouth  
ReadinghismessyhandwritingI'mcrying  
CreakingropeI'mscreaming  
SwingingcreakingscreamingI'mscreaming  
I scrambled up and threw up hard.   
Sweat poured down my face and dripped off my chin, joining my tears as it fell.   
I choked as I retched again and spluttered and coughed violently.   
I couldn't breath but I could and it was a terrifying sensation.   
Fuck, I needed Felix and I needed him to tell me that it was just a dream, that he hadn't really hung himself because of me and I needed him to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay and I just really fucking needed him.   
I flushed the toilet and stood, shaking so badly that I could hardly keep my balance.   
I struggled to breath. It felt like Felix himself was choking me.  
I saw my inhaler a few feet away on the floor from when I had laid down.   
It wasn't the kind of struggling to breath that medicine could fix. It felt like holes had been punctured in my lungs. Whenever I gasped for air, it flowed out through the holes.   
It felt like suffocating. A weight on my shoulders threatened to take me down and keep me from ever getting back up.   
And God, I knew that there was such an easy remedy. I knew that if Felix were there, I would be better in an instant.   
But he wasn't and I felt like I knew what dying of heartache was like.   
I needed him to breathe. I needed him to function. I needed him to live.   
And fuck, I was entirely too dependant on Felix, I knew that well, but I didn't care.   
I ran my hands over the mirror. It was smooth and cool, like the tile. Everything was so flawless in rehab.   
Not everything. The humans, the people were the flaws.   
That's what rehab was, I thought. It was a place for the flaws of mankind to go until we could be smooth and shiny again, like tile and glass.   
Because fuck flaws, humans wanted to be perfect in every way possible. If something snapped in a mind, if somebody didn't quite fit with society, of course they had to be sent to learn how to be flawless again.   
That was what rehab was. What prison was. Places for the flawed to learn to be perfect again.   
I smirked at my weary, wrecked reflection. Apparently I became a philosopher whenever I felt like I was going to die.


	26. Chapter 26

Harry's POV

I woke up with a mission.  
The mission was basically figuring out how to kill myself, which required me being smarter than the staff.   
They had taken away everything dangerous. I couldn't use knives at meals, I couldn't wear belts, I couldn't shave, I couldn't have scissors, rope, any sort of medication, ties, anything made of glass and basically anything that had a sharp enough edge to hurt myself with.   
There was probably more to the list that I couldn't even think of. The window had a screen in front of it so that I couldn't jump out and the mirror in the toilet was made of some sort of thing that wasn't glass but looked and felt like it. It confused me.   
Even the cord for the lamp on the table was too short for any harm to be done.  
A week after Felix left and the day after I had slipped into that dark sunspace, I had come out of it during the night and I spent the day thinking.  
I only left my room for meals and to work out for an hour.   
I wondered about hanging myself. It seemed like the only possible option. I thought about wrapping a sheet around my neck to do the job. But as I looked around, I discovered that there was no place to hang the makeshift noose from.   
Cursing, I crossed hanging myself off of my mental list.   
I paced restlessly around the room.   
I felt weird. I knew I wanted to kill myself and just the idea shot little doses of adrenaline through my veins. I was excited, in a twisted way. My mind thought differently with the anticipation and I knew that I really wasn't thinking clearly or behaving like myself.   
I didn't care.   
God, I knew quite well how badly I was hurting people. I knew that forcing everyone through me trying a second time was downright cruel and if I succeeded, I knew it would be even worse.   
But nobody knew just how badly I hurt. I hurt just as much as my friends and family and twice as much as that.   
I hurt because I hurt them. I hurt because I had hurt Felix. I hurt most of all because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't let Louis go.   
But he was so far away. Before I had tried killing myself the first time, just brushing against him had felt so right to me and he hadn't ever felt it like I had. It was like one of those dreams where no matter how fast I ran, I could never catch up to him.   
He was Louis, though, and because he was Louis, I just kept running and trying to catch him.   
Beautiful Louis. Funny Louis. Perfect Louis.   
Eleanor's Louis.   
But he wasn't Eleanor's Louis. She had broken up with him.   
I smirked bitterly. The last time she had broken up with him, he had slept with me.   
No matter how many times Louis broke my heart, I still patched it together, each time with more pieces missing, and I kept chasing him.  
Until finally, my legs gave out and I had got up and chased after death instead.   
But even that I couldn't catch.   
I knew how close I had come. The doctor had told me that my heart had stopped briefly. I had a vague recollection of sinking into a peaceful, beautiful inky black and then being jerked out of it into a reality of pain.   
I sat down on my bed.   
I knew that waiting until I got released was out of the options. The boys would never leave me alone. They would probably keep a security guard with me at all times, knowing them.   
I flopped back on the bed.   
I wondered if it was possible to smother myself with one of my pillows.   
I didn't know where the sudden urge to die had come from. Well, I did. I knew that what had happened with Felix had triggered it.   
Suicide had never entirely vanished from my mind, but Felix had helped push it back considerably. Without him, it had come back.   
I thought about the anti-depressants that I took with breakfast every morning. I wondered if I couldn't just hide them and stash them away until I had enough to do damage with.   
But that would take weeks. I didn't want to wait weeks. I wanted life to be over as soon as possible.   
I absently dug my nails into my wrists. The pain felt good. It was a dull ache and not quite as reliving as the sharp sting of a razor blade, but it would have to do.  
I couldn't sleep at night. I ended up having to approach a nurse and ask for sleeping pills. She gave me two extremely mild pills, nowhere near enough to do anything.   
They made me sleepy and I fell asleep eventually.   
I was at a stage where I could have visitors twice a week, so a few days after, I was allowed visitors again. It was always Sundays and Thursdays.   
I was curled in the armchair by the window, twisting my thumbnail deeper into my left wrist.  
On top of the large collection of scars I already had, my wrists were torn up from my nails scratching and digging until my wrists were a bloody mess.   
Aysiah had seen the marks, she had to of, but she hadn't said anything about them. I had a feeling that the nail-cutter I found on my bed a few hours later had to do with her, however.   
It was a bit cheeky, actually.   
I had to keep my nails short, a nurse had said when I had tried to give it to her, it was just a rule. So digging my nails into my wrists became harder and more frustrating.   
The door opened and I looked up. Then I froze.   
Felix quietly shut the door and turned to face me.  
"Hey, popstar," he said.   
I promptly burst into tears.   
He hurried over to me and nudged me to move over. I squished against the side as he sat down and then I was pulled into his lap.   
"What's wrong, love?" he cooed, petting my hair.   
That only made me cry harder, burying my face in his neck.  
It was so familiar and warm and comforting and so, so Felix.   
"Babe, what have you done to your wrists?" he asked softly, running his thumb over the half-moon shaped scabs and the puffy red scratch marks.   
"Couldn't- couldn't handle i-it," I sobbed.   
"Sh, it's okay, you don't have to talk yet," he murmured.   
I wasn't entirely sure how long he sat there and held me, and his legs probably fell asleep, but he whispered comforting things in my ear and stroked my hair and back until my crying faded into soft snuffles against his skin.   
"What's up, popstar?" he asked finally, "Your mum told me that you shut down whenever she told you that I wasn't coming."  
"It was my fault that you didn't come, wasn't it?" I whispered, "Because I was stupid and I kissed you."   
"Sweetheart, that's not it at all! I really did try to come, I'm not lying. My sister got sick and it was all so hectic trying to move and my parents needed me to look after her," he explained, "I'm not mad or upset with you, I promise."  
"I don't think I can do this without you. I need you with me all the time," I admitted.   
"What's been going on? What are all these new marks on your wrist for?" Felix asked.   
"I'm not strong enough to not hurt myself without you. I'm weak when you're not here," I mumbled.   
He sighed, long and drawn-out. I wondered if I was a burden to him. I asked him.   
"Of course you aren't, love! I don't mind you needing me. I don't mind if you need me to hold you like this or if you need me to talk to you until you don't want to cut anymore. I'll do anything for you," he said gently.   
His fingers grazed my jaw line so that I lifted my head and looked at him.   
I probably looked terrible. My eyes had to have been red and puffy and my face blotchy and tear-stained.   
As always, Felix seemed to know what I was thinking.   
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his fingers brushing my cheek before he lowered his hand.   
He looked lost and helpless and I knew that he was looking at me with all the love and adoration that I had always looked at Louis with.   
"Felix?" I asked softly.  
"Yeah?" he replied.   
"I...lately, I've been thinking about suicide. Like, a lot. Like, I really want to do it again and I've been wondering about how to do it without anyone here stopping me. I've been thinking non-stop about it and I guess it's never really seemed bad to me, but now it does. And now I'm scared," I whimpered, hiding my face in his shirt again.   
I felt his arm and his hand tense around my waist, but he didn't say anything. He rested his chin on my head. I felt so safe, wrapped up in a blanket of Felix. I didn't hurt as much and suicide seemed far away.   
"I hate it when you talk about that," he finally whispered, "It scares me so bad. You say you can't live without me and I'll say I can't live without you either."   
"I just feel like I'm not getting any better, though. I know if I had a razor right now, I'd use it," I mumbled.   
As an afterthought, I added weakly, "And I still can't stop loving Louis. I still hurt just as bad as I did when I came here."  
"You have no idea how much you've improved, Harry," he sighed, "You weren't able to even say Louis's name. You couldn't eat more than broth. You went ballistic trying to find my razor. Look at you now. You can talk about him easily, you're eating fairly complex food, and yeah, you're using your nails, but you haven't tried anything else."   
I let his words sink in and I nodded.  
"And you've still got about two and a half months left. Whenever you leave, I'll be there, okay? I know you're scared, but I'll come whenever you need me," Felix added.   
I took my face away from his chest and looked up at him.   
"But you can't always come when I'm still here," I protested, "And I'm lonely. I can't talk to anybody like I can talk to you."  
He smiled sadly.   
"I know. But maybe you'll find out over time that you don't need me as much as you think you do. You know, I couldn't have helped you unless you were strong enough to want to get better. You may think you want to die, Harry, but I don't think that you really do," he said.   
"I love you," I mumbled, dropping my head back down onto his chest.   
"I love you too," he replied.   
I mentally cringed, knowing that he meant it in a different way.   
"Your other friends are here too," he said.  
"I don't care," I grumbled.  
Felix chuckled drily.   
"They deserve to see you too," he said, "C'mon. Get up."  
It ended up in him unceremoniously dumping me on the floor. I scrambled up and stuck my tongue out at him.   
It was amazing how much my mood lifted when I was around him. It had always been that way with Louis, even when it had hurt to be with him as well.   
"Will you stay? I can have everyone with me at once now," I said.  
Felix hesitated before nodding.   
He opened the door and motioned the other lads in. I noticed that it was only Zayn and Niall.   
"Where's Liam?" I asked.   
Niall bit his lip and looked at Zayn.   
"With Louis. In Doncaster," he said simply.   
I nodded and picked myself up off of the floor before sitting back down on the armchair.   
We talked idly for a while. I'd spent a lot of time with Felix, so they didn't have a ton of time with me.   
He sat on the arm of the chair I was in and absently played with my hair. I couldn't keep a small, content smile off of my face.   
But when it came to be the time for everyone to leave, I had no idea what a smile even was.   
I hugged Felix tightly, unwilling to let him go. Zayn and Niall hovered near the door, waiting to say their goodbyes.   
"I love you," I whispered in Felix's ear.   
"I love you too, so much. I'll be back on Sunday, okay?" he said, wriggling out of my tight hold.   
I bit my lip, trying to keep from crying.   
"Yeah," I said, nearly inaudibly.   
He leaned forwards to kiss my forehead before he left. Niall and Zayn hugged me goodbye as well.   
After they left, I retreated to my bed and tried to keep the thoughts of suicide out of my mind.

 

Louis's POV

One thing I hadn't missed about drinking was the hangover.   
Stan woke me up, shaking my shoulder roughly.   
He seemed angry and the sliver of sanity in my mind didn't blame him. I'd have been pissed off at me too if I had cared.   
"I'm taking you back to your mum's house. I told you that you stayed the night here and we played FIFA," he snapped.   
"Why don't you just take me to a bloody bar? That's where I would rather be," I drawled.   
The next thing I knew, I was stumbling backwards and the left side of my face was in a considerable amount of pain.   
I gaped at him, but he interrupted me before I could speak.   
"Don't you even dare say that I had no reason to do that! Wake up, Louis! Do you even care that your mum cries all the time because of you? Your sisters, too! And yet, you still drink yourself into oblivion because you're too selfish and too much of a coward to face your problems! And Christ, you've got a lot of them," Stan yelled, "But no, of course you don't care, do you? Because it's all about you! You talk about how much you hurt, but you don't care at all how much you're hurting everyone around you!"   
I stared at him, my eyes dull and emotionless, and my hand pressed against the hot, sensitive skin where he had slapped me.   
"Are you quite finished?" I growled.   
There was a brief moment where I could see him contemplating murder.   
"You're a selfish bastard, Louis. I can't imagine why Harry fell in love with you," he muttered.   
His eyes widened and he knew he had gone way, way too far.   
My blood went hot and cold at the same time and my muscles tensed so tightly that it hurt.   
"Take me home. Now, Stan," I hissed.   
My voice was tight and I hated the waver in it.   
"Lou," he sighed.   
"I'll fucking walk if you don't take me right now," I barked.   
Stan's face hardened again and he nodded stiffly.   
We drove in incredibly tense silence. As soon as he pulled up to the house, I got out and slammed the door without looking back at him.   
"Good morning, Louis," my mother said brightly.   
I growled something at her before storming away.  
"Louis!" she called.  
I turned.  
She looked upset suddenly, and incredibly lost.   
"I can smell the alcohol on you," she said quietly.   
Something deep in my heart hurt at the disappointment in her voice, but I quickly shoved it away.  
I blinked at her for a moment before escaping upstairs.  
I ripped my clothes off of my body, something bubbling up in my chest.   
I turned on the shower and ducked inside, the cold water shocking me as it warmed up.   
A sob tore out of my throat and I clapped my hands over my mouth.   
It was no use.   
I slid down the shower wall, letting the warming water beat against me as I cried.   
I felt so hopeless and scared and lost and alone and disgusting.   
I knew that every word that Stan had said was true.   
Really, how had Harry fallen in love with me? I knew that I was a horrible person and I was selfish, just like Stan had said.   
I was hurting everyone but I was too scared and selfish too do anything about it.   
I cried until the shower water ran unbearably cold. I crept out, my skin cold, and avoided looking in the mirror as I slunk into my room.   
I was afraid of what I would see.   
Would I see Louis Tomlinson? Or would I see this selfish, ruined, scared, hurting version of me? Was I even me anymore?   
I pulled on a pair of boxers and threw my towel across the room before slipping underneath the comforts of my sheets.   
I was asleep fairly quickly, exhausted from crying. My mum woke me up with lunch and then later for dinner. I picked at both meals.   
She was trying so, so hard. But I had closed back up after crying in the shower and I had retreated back behind my walls. I couldn't say 'thank you' to her or try and comfort her. I couldn't even lie and tell her that it wasn't alcohol that she had smelled, Stan would never have let me drink.   
"Liam is coming tomorrow," she said to me.   
I nodded before sliding back my chair and escaping back into my room.   
I was still tired, but I couldn't sleep. It was so, so frustrating but it was sort of a routine. Get next to no sleep, sort of function for a day, go to bed, get next to no sleep, repeat.   
I doubted that my mum would get me sleeping pills. She was probably afraid that I was suicidal.   
And I kind of was.   
I had screamed at Liam about it before I had even realized that it was true, I did want to die.   
I wanted to be away from all the pain and the hurting. Falling asleep and never waking up sounded so good and I could understand why Harry had done it.   
I slept for about two hours before I was woken up by somebody shaking my shoulder gently.   
I growled and blinked my eyes open to see Liam.  
"Hey, Lou," he said gently.   
I growled again before pulling the duvet over my head.  
"Fuck off," I snapped.   
He sighed.   
"Stan told me that you weren't the best person to talk to," he said.   
"Fuck off," I repeated.   
"I just wanted to make sure that you were doing alright," Liam said.   
"Do I fucking look alright?" I snarled, poking my head out.   
He bit his lip.  
"You've just woken up, Lou. Nobody looks good when they've just woken up," he said tentatively.  
"I've got a headache. Can you just leave me the fuck alone?" I grumbled, retreating back underneath the covers.   
"Louis," he sighed.   
"That's my fucking name," I snapped.   
"Look, I'm just really worried about you, okay? We all are," he tried.   
"You have no idea how many times I've heard that speech," I grumbled.   
"I'll be downstairs with your mum if you need me," Liam finally sighed.   
I didn't say anything as he left.  
I started to feel guilty, so I shut my eyes and tried to fall back asleep so that I wouldn't.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm begging you. If you have any ideas for the story, please, please comment them. (No, Louis and Harry can't meet) I literally have the worst writer's block ever and I feel like this story is getting really boring. So if you have any suggestions, please comment them!

Louis's POV

Apparently Liam had really come so he could drag me back to London. We had some meeting with management that I couldn't give a shit about.   
I told him as much.   
"Louis, trust me, I would have you stay here if I could, but we haven't talked to them in ages and they have no idea what's going on. They just know that there's rumors going around about you trying suicide or doing drugs or going to rehab yourself. We need to talk to them," he explained.   
"I need to stay here. I've got therapy, remember?" I sneered sarcastically.   
In truth, somewhere deep in my mind, I was scared.   
I was scared of London and all that it had come to represent.   
Suicide, alcoholism, depression, a breakdown, near-rape. Too much pain and too many tears.   
"Lou, you can come back here after. At most you'll be gone for a day, if that's what you want. Plus, we all miss you," Liam tried.   
"Harry doesn't. Or he would have fucking spoken to me by now," I said coldly.   
I pulled on a hard, emotionless mask before Liam could detect that I really hadn't intended to say that.   
If he heard the slightly tremble in my voice, he didn't show it.   
"Louis," he sighed.  
"I don't want your fucking sympathy. Save it," I snarled, letting my anger replace my fear.   
Like a cornered animal, I thought.   
My muscles were tense even though I leaned against the counter in the kitchen.   
Like I would pounce if provoked.   
I smiled drily to myself for a second, but it vanished when I noticed how warily Liam was looking at me.   
"Take a picture. It'll last longer. I'll sign it too, if you want," I drawled.   
"No thanks. I don't want to remember you like this," he said quietly.  
I should have felt angry. I should have lashed out.   
I didn't, though.   
Instead, I just felt sad. He was so right. In the future, I would eventually be happier, though it didn't feel like it. I wouldn't want a picture, metaphorical or not, to remind me of the times I spent with more alcohol and anger in my veins than blood.   
We stared at each other. I was careful to compose myself and wipe my face blank of emotion.   
He didn't take any measures to do so. I hated seeing Liam so upset. He was hurting too; seeing his best friends fall apart in front of him had to have taken its toll on him.   
"Just get your stuff, Louis, please. We need to leave soon," he finally sighed.   
I sent him what I hoped was a withering glare before I stormed to my room.   
I sat on my bed and looked at the picture frame laying face-down on my bedside table. It was intentionally that way.  
It was just a picture of Harry and I, but I couldn't stand looking at it, looking at him and how happy he had used to be, so I had put it face-down.   
I had thrown the second frame that had been there, the one with the picture of Eleanor and I, at the wall. The glass had shattered and my mum had cleaned it up.   
I had been tempted to throw Harry's picture after it, but as stupid as it sounded, I just couldn't throw Harry at a wall.   
I kept staring at it until I gently batted it with my hand and it fell behind the table.   
Liam came in after roughly fifteen minutes and sighed when he saw me sitting motionless on the bed.   
I watched him silently as he bustled around my room, throwing things he apparently thought I would need into a bag.   
"Ready?" he asked.  
"You tell me," I snapped.   
"Let's go," he said.   
My mum hugged me goodbye. I sort of just stood there with my arms limply around her.   
Liam threw my bag into his car and I sat in the passenger seat.  
I put my hood up and pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window.   
We drove in silence, the radio on, for a good half-hour.   
Then What Makes You Beautiful came on and my heart plummeted when I heard Harry's voice.   
I was suddenly aware that I had a horrible headache.   
It felt like somebody was using an icepick behind my eyes and someone else was beating my brain with a hammer.   
"Liam, can you turn the fucking radio down? I've got a migraine or something," I hissed.   
He immediatly turned it off.   
"Do you need something for it? There's a gas station in a few minutes if you want me to get you some medicine," he asked.  
"This isn't a headache that a pill can fix," I muttered.   
I turned to face him, cringing as my head throbbed.   
Liam seemed to understand. He patted my knee.   
I flinched instinctively and he jerked back.   
I really didn't like to be touched. It just reminded me of Ben touching me and then I would feel sick and even more disgusting than usual.   
His eyes flickered between me and the road.   
It suddenly occurred to me that he was Liam. It sounded so stupid, but in my struggle with my crumbling sanity, I had forgotten basically everyone but myself.   
It was hard to explain.   
Before Harry had tried to commit suicide, I always talked to my mum about my problems, no matter how big or small. I called both my family and Eleanor every day.   
I was always a little bit more hesitant to go up to one of the boys and ask for advice. I always had tried to put on a fearless leader attitude during the X Factor and it had carried over afterwards.   
But Liam could always get me to open up and talk to him about anything. He always saw when something was wrong.   
Harry had too.   
I stared at Liam. It was so weird for me not to talk to people, I realized. I didn't know the last time I had spoken to somebody calmly.   
I avoided touching people too, when previously I had been the most handsy person I knew.   
I carefully edged towards Liam and I rested my head on his shoulder.   
He tensed in surprise, but he didn't say anything. He tentatively put his arm around me. He was still afraid to touch me, I realized.   
I ended up falling asleep, escaping the throbbing in my head.   
I woke up when Liam shifted, my head slipping off his shoulder.  
"Sorry about that, Lou," he said, "My shoulder was getting a bit uncomfortable. I didn't mean for you to wake up."  
"S'fine," I muttered, "How far away are we?"  
"Just like ten minutes. I probably would have woken you up soon anyways," he said, "You're staying with me, by the way."  
I shot him a look.  
"Don't argue. Nobody trusts you to be by yourself right now, alright? Just cooperate, please," Liam sighed.   
I muttered something under my breath and looked at him darkly, but he seemed to take that as an agreement.   
"Great," he said simply.   
"All my shit's at Harry's," I said.   
"You're going back to Doncaster tomorrow or the next day anyways," Liam said.   
"What if I don't want to go back?" I argued, just for the sake of being irritating.   
I wanted to go back home, but I was also in a mood where I wanted people to feel just as irritable and miserable as I did.   
It was a childish thing to feel, but I wasn't exactly known for being mature.   
"You should. You've got that psychiatrist there. Plus, your mum can look after you better than I can," he said absently, turning onto a different street.   
"I don't need to be looked after! I'm an adult; I'm not a child," I snapped.  
"I'll be honest, Lou. Nobody really trusts you by yourself and you're sort of acting like a child, so don't use that argument," he said, sighing impatiently.   
"Fuck you," I muttered.   
I could practically hear him roll his eyes.   
He parked and we walked inside.   
"Take a shower, do whatever you need to. We have to leave in like an hour and a half," he said.   
I nodded and decided to take him up on the offer for a shower.   
It still felt like no matter how much I scrubbed at my skin, I still felt disgusting. I wondered how people didn't just look at me and know what I had done, that I had tried to sleep with a guy while I still had a female fiancée.   
I was disgusting and I knew it.   
I'd seen the way Liam had jerked away from me when he had put his hand on my knee. He had to have felt how disgusting I was.   
"Lou? We need to leave in fifteen minutes," Liam called through the door.   
I jerked out of the trance I had been in and I realized that the water in the shower had gone freezing cold.   
I gritted my teeth and washed my hair as quickly as I could before I turned it off and got out.   
I shook out my hair and decided to let it do what it wanted.   
I pulled on an outfit that Liam had stuffed in my bag and shoved my shoes on my feet.   
"I'm ready," I growled.   
He smiled at me, not at all phased by my murderous look.   
I didn't particularly love our management. They knew what they were doing, but they had a tendency to be overbearing twats.   
Niall and Zayn were already waiting when we arrived.   
"Hey, Louis," Zayn said, staying seated.  
Niall, on the other hand, jumped up and flung his arms around me.   
"Louis!" he greeted happily.   
"Niall-" Liam started, a low warning.   
I thrashed around until Niall stepped back and then I shoved him away from me.   
He stumbled and nearly tripped, but Zayn caught his arm.  
"Don't fucking touch me!" I snarled, backing away slowly.  
Niall stared at me with wide eyes.   
I wrapped my arms tightly around myself because suddenly, it wasn't Niall looking at me, it was Ben, and he was pulling back his arm to hit me and-  
"Good afternoon, boys!" a man boomed as he walked into the room, flanked by a few other people.  
I sat down shakily, sitting on the edge of my chair, as far away from everyone as I could.   
I tuned out most of the meeting. I knew that it was basically for me and what to do about me, but I couldn't bring myself to care.   
I hummed in agreement when I felt like I had to but I mostly let everyone else answer questions for me.   
I distantly heard Harry's name a few times, but I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into my own mind.   
I could feel my hands shaking under the table and I vaguely noticed the worried looks that the boys were shooting me.   
Somebody shook my shoulder and I jerked out of my haze, instinctively leaning away from it.   
Liam looked down at me, concern bright in his eyes.  
"Everyone's leaving, Lou," he said quietly.   
I nodded and stood. It was just the four of us in the conference room. The representatives from our management had apparently left without me realizing it.   
"You alright?" Liam asked.  
"Just peachy," I muttered.   
I crossed my arms tightly, pulling them back against my chest. It did only a small amount to relieve the ache I felt.   
Niall backed away slightly as I passed him. I didn't blame him for being a bit frightened.   
When I was back in Liam's car, I pulled my knees against my chest, a hard position when in a car.   
"We have a radio interview tomorrow. We thought that people should know that you're okay, and not dead or locked up somewhere," Liam said with surprising bluntness.   
"I don't want to," I sighed, resting my forehead on my knees.   
"It'll be short, don't worry. And we're going to make sure you approve the questions before we start, okay?" he said gently.   
"Okay," I whispered.   
"Niall didn't know that you don't want to be touched. He's really upset over it," Liam added.   
"Well, now he knows," I mumbled.   
He fell silent for a few moments, the only noise around us coming from the cars passing us.   
"Why don't you want to be touched? Like, I know that it has to do with, you know, but...yeah," he said slowly.   
I shook my head.   
Liam knew enough to take the hint that I didn't want to talk about it.   
"Okay," he murmured, "I was just curious. Cause you like, put your head on my shoulder earlier and I dunno..."  
Liam's unsure phrasing was almost comical but I didn't know if I even knew how to laugh or smile.   
"You hungry? Do you want to stop somewhere?" he asked.   
I shrugged.   
"Have you even eaten today?" he continued.  
I shrugged again.   
"Alright. You know what, lets just get take away or something," he suggested.   
I didn't respond.   
Later, as I picked at my food on his sofa, I noticed how Liam was studying me.   
I looked up and met his eyes. He blinked twice before looking at his own food.   
"Harry asks about you sometimes," he said quietly.   
I stiffened.   
"Louis, just listen to me for a minute. I'm not making excuses for him or anything; I actually think he's being a twat to you. But please just try and put yourself in his position. He's trying to get over you so when he comes back, he doesn't have to hurt like he did before. I guess that cutting you out completely is his way of trying to get over his feelings for you. He's really trying, Louis, and I don't agree that this is the best way, but please try not to be mad at him," Liam said in a rush.   
I set my food on the floor and looked at him. My legs were crossed underneath me and I set my elbows on my knees.   
"You know, a lot of the time, I'm not even that mad at him. I'm just really, really mad at myself," I said quietly, "D'you want the rest of this?"   
I offered him my food and he shook his head.   
"Put it away in case you want the rest later," he said.  
Liam looked as if he were about to try and continue the conversation, but I shook my head slowly.   
"I'm going to go to bed," I mumbled, ignoring the fact that it was only early evening.  
"Alright. Let me know if you need anything," he said.   
I nodded and I went up to his guest room.   
As I always did, I lay awake for hours.   
It was true what I had said to Liam, I really wasn't that mad at Harry. I hated myself for being so stupid and never doing anything for Harry before he had had to resort to suicide.   
I could have helped in some way, I knew that I could have. Putting him in rehab earlier, even.   
Anything.   
I looked out the small window when the sun rose. It was pretty. It was sort of a bloody orange with streaks of pink through it.   
I went down to his kitchen whenever the sun had risen completely and I reheated the take away.   
I ate about five bites before giving up and throwing it away.   
I was so used to not getting much sleep that I didn't feel tired at all after not getting any.   
I fussed around on my laptop for a while after that.   
'73'   
I still kept the countdown until Harry would be getting out of rehab on Twitter. I had never missed a day.   
I had been considering getting a new tattoo, but I wasn't entirely sure what.   
I had seen something that said something about a "ghost with a beating heart". It fit me incredibly well but I wasn't sure how I wanted to get it tattooed or where.   
I cracked my neck and decided to come back to it.   
"Morning, Lou," Liam grunted from behind me.   
I turned around and nodded at him.  
"How long have you been awake?" he asked.  
I snorted softly, "Never fell asleep, mate."  
His eyebrows furrowed together with concern.  
"Louis-" he began.  
"It's not healthy," I interrupted, "I know. But I'm fine, okay? I'm still functioning. Leave it alone."  
Liam wanted to keep pushing the issue, quite badly, but he sighed heavily and nodded.   
"I'm trusting you with this, okay? No almost passing out again," he said.  
"You could probably fucking sedate me and I'd still stay awake. I just don't sleep anymore," I said simply, "And that's that."  
"We've got that interview in two hours. Just make sure you're ready by then," he said, "I'm gonna go take a shower."  
My eyes did burn with exhaustion, but I was used to the feeling. I yawned as discreetly as I could as he walked away.   
I lounged around until it was time to go. I pulled on a different shirt and ran my fingers through my hair a few times.   
"Ready?" Liam asked.  
I nodded and we left.   
It was a BBC radio interview, but it wasn't going to be with Nick fucking Grimshaw, thank god. I had to smirk to myself. I didn't know if I had called him or thought of him as anything but Nick fucking Grimshaw since I had met him.   
I disliked him immensely and I probably wasn't his favorite person in the world either.   
"Lou? These okay questions?" Liam asked, passing me a sheet of paper.  
They were pretty standard questions.   
One asked about Harry and I hesitated.  
"It's okay if they ask about him," I said quietly, "I just don't want to be the one to answer."  
"Alright. I'll make sure they know that," Liam said.   
Niall eyed me warily and I felt mildly ill because one of my best friends was frightened of me.   
"You sure you're okay with this?" Liam asked.  
I nodded.   
We ran through the interview easily. I kept silent almost the entire time, unless directly spoken to.   
"So, Louis, have you guys been working on any music?" the interviewer asked.   
"Maybe they have, but I really haven't. Sometimes I'll write down some line or something that'll pop into my head, but it's nothing that you could make a song from. I can't really speak for anyone else though," I said quietly.   
"I have, a bit," Niall volunteered.   
Liam nodded in agreement.  
"I'm pretty bad at songwriting, so I haven't," Zayn said.   
The Harry question ended up being directed at Niall.   
All three of them looked at me quickly before Niall began speaking.   
"He's good, really good, actually. I know there's some tough days obviously, but every time I see him, he's doing just fine. It's like, what, a bit over two more months until he's coming back?" Niall asked.  
"Two and a half," Liam agreed, "But it could always be earlier. I doubt it'll be any later."  
"It better not," I muttered under my breath.   
I didn't think anybody but Liam heard me and he glanced at me quickly.   
"How's his roommate? I've heard that they're pretty good friends," the interviewer said.  
I clenched my jaw. I had known he would ask about Felix, but I really hated the topic.  
"Felix? He's great. They're actually not roommates anymore, because Felix got to leave, but I know he visits every chance that he can get. They're quite close," Zayn said.   
I gritted my teeth. I hated being reminded that Felix was essentially my replacement in Harry's life.  
Thankfully, we switched topics and I was able to tune the rest of the interview out.   
"Thank you for cooperating," one of our handlers said to me as we got ready to leave.  
Because I felt like being a shit, I flipped him off.   
I heard Niall surpress a laugh at the outrage on the handler's face.   
"Said I'd be good for the interview. Never said anything about after," I said smugly.   
Even Liam had a small smile on his face.   
"You're such a twat," Zayn snorted.   
"I take pride in that," I replied.  
For a brief moment, everything felt normal. We were bantering amongst ourselves and it felt easy and stress-free.  
But Harry was missing from our group and the normality of our banter vanished along with the small smirk on my face.   
Liam put his arm out to give me a side-hug, but dropped it quickly before he touched me.   
"Sorry," he said quickly.   
I bit my lip and turned away.   
We drove back to his place and I immediatly flopped onto his sofa.  
"Do you want me to take you back today?" Liam asked.  
"I don't care," I mumbled, my voice muffled by the cushion.   
"How about tomorrow? I think that'd work better," he suggested.  
"Whatever," I said.  
He sighed.  
I drifted off. I had some weird dream about keeping a sloth named Jackson in a cupboard.   
I was woken up by Liam's doorbell ringing.   
"Can you get that, Lou?" he called.  
"Whatever!" I replied.   
Liam took that as a yes, so I picked myself up off the sofa and shuffled over to the door.   
I opened it and my mouth went dry.  
"Hi, Louis," Eleanor said quietly.  
"Um. What are you doing here?" I coughed.   
Fresh guilt raced through me and I was half-tempted to slam the door in her face. Then I realized that I would only feel more guilty.   
"Who is it, Lou?" Liam asked, jogging down his stairs.   
He stopped when he saw Eleanor.   
"I was um, wondering if we could talk?" she asked me.   
"Uh, yeah, sure," I replied, stepping back to let her in.  
I looked at Liam helplessly.   
"I'm running to the store, Lou. Do you need anything?" he asked.  
I shot him a glowering look.   
"I'll take that as a no," he said pleasantly, "Nice to see you, Eleanor."   
I flipped him off.   
Eleanor stood awkwardly until Liam left.   
"So, I called your mum to ask where you were, cause I really wasn't sure, and she said that you were here, so yeah," she said.   
"El," I said, "What do you want?"  
She bit her lip and went around to sit down on the sofa.   
I sat on the other end.  
"Louis, I've been thinking a lot about what happened. Yeah, I'm still really mad and really upset, but, like, I don't know. I guess I'm just really confused. Like, I just got this call from you and the next thing I know, you're telling me that you slept with some guy and I don't know. I just feel like you and I just need to talk," she said.   
"I didn't really sleep with him, I don't think. I made him leave when he actually got inside me. And that's when he hit me," I said bluntly, "It was really stupid in retrospect. I wanted to know what it felt like when Harry and I did it cause I have no clue. I was plastered. And in case you didn't notice, I'm not entirely sane at the moment, so I thought that calling some random guy to fuck me was the best way."  
Eleanor nodded slowly.   
"He didn't, um, rape you, did he?" she asked carefully.  
I rubbed my hands over my face and shrugged.  
"I don't know. I mean, the second he got there, I wanted him to go away. And, fuck, sorry if this gets a bit graphic, but then he made me give him a blowjob and I think I tried to get away but he held my head down until I couldn't breath and I thought I was going to throw up. And then he did some half-assed job at stretching me out and it hurt so bad and I was so scared and then he actually got inside me and fuck, nothing has ever hurt that bad in my entire life. I don't think he believed me when I told him to stop but I don't know how he didn't. I was crying, I think, and I was trying to get away. He obviously caught on eventually and then he hit me and called more a whore or something and he left. But I don't know if he raped me. I just know that I was scared and it hurt," I said.  
The words just poured out of my mouth without any sort of filter. I had no idea where they had come from.   
Eleanor had gone completely pale.  
"Oh, Louis," she said gently.  
She reached out to put her hand on my cheek and I flinched. She recoiled.   
"I just feel really disgusting now, like any person on the street can take one look at me and just know what I did," I said quietly.  
Eleanor had tears in her eyes, I realized. I wasn't sure what to do. What were our boundaries?  
"I'm sorry, Louis. But you shouldn't have done it in the first place," she said quietly.   
"I know," I agreed.   
"I knew that it was over between us anyways. I just...we didn't talk at all, Louis. You called like once every two weeks and I saw you like twice. At first I understood; you were upset and something really traumatic had happened. But then I told you that I felt like you were ignoring me and you promised to stop but you didn't. Then every time I talked to you after that, you were drunk. I couldn't be in a relationship like that, Louis," she said.  
"I know. El, I swear, I loved you so much. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," I said.  
"I've been thinking about that too. I don't think you really ever loved me as much as you thought you did," Eleanor said.  
"What are you talking about? I loved you with all my heart!" I protested.   
She shook her head and smiled sadly.   
"There were just so many times that...I just wondered sometimes who you were in love with. Me or Harry?" she said.   
"You! That's the whole reason for this mess! I was in love with you, not him," I snorted.  
"I think that you think you were in love with me more than him. But Louis, you know that if he and I both called and needed you at the same time, you'd go to him first. Harry always came first to you, don't you dare say he didn't. I know a lot of the time I was a bit paranoid, because Louis, I don't know if you ever looked at some of the stuff that the Larry shippers see, but sometimes even I wondered if you two weren't in a relationship behind my back. And right now I'm wondering if you're in love with him too but you hid it from yourself by being in love with me," she said.  
I stared at her, my mouth slightly open.   
"I was in love with you," I said, shaking my head.   
"Maybe you were. I'm just saying how I feel. Louis, look me in the eyes for a second," she ordered.  
I obeyed.  
"You kissed him and you slept with him while you were drunk. You wouldn't have done that if you didn't have some kind of feelings for him, whether you knew they existed or not. Can you honestly tell me that you felt nothing more than brotherly love for him?" she asked.  
I searched my mind for something to say.   
"I don't know," I replied honestly.  
Eleanor nodded slowly.   
"I just...I just wanted to know," she said.   
"I'm sorry, you know. The last thing that I've ever wanted to do was hurt you," I said.  
She gave me a small smirk.  
"I think the last thing that you ever wanted to do was hurt Harry. Maybe hurting me was second to last," she said.   
"No matter what you think, I wanted to marry you, Eleanor. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did," I said.   
"I know you're sorry, Louis. And I think I can forgive you, honestly," she said, "I love you, you know. I'm just not in love with you anymore."  
"I love you too," I said.  
"I should be getting going," she said, standing.  
"Did you really drive four hours to talk to me for one?" I asked incredulously.   
"Yeah. But I'm staying with a friend for the night," she said.  
"Do you need anything?" I asked.   
She shook her head.   
"Look, El, I do still want to be friends with you. I love you, I'm not lying when I say that," I said.  
Eleanor nodded.   
Without thinking, I hugged her. It was familiar and comforting, albeit brief.   
"I'll see you, Louis, okay?" she said.  
"Of course," I agreed.  
Eleanor gave me a small, sad smile before stepping out and shutting the door behind her.  
We both knew that we wouldn't see each other again.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hypothetically, if Felix and Harry were to make another vlog thingy, and Felix used Harry's twitter or something to find questions for the fans, what would they be?   
> Basically, pretend that you're a fan in this story; what would you ask them?  
> (Keep in mind that it has to be a wuestion that they would realistically want to answer)

Louis's POV

Really, therapy was stupid.   
I went once a week, and in the two weeks since I had spoken to Eleanor, Dr. Benson hadn't gotten a single word from me.  
I simply sat and stared stonily at him.   
I was doing everything but improving. I'd started locking my bedroom door so that Stan couldn't drag me out until he picked the lock.   
If I had been able to withstand reality for even a moment, my heart would have broken when I saw how I was affecting my mum and sisters.   
Lottie had charged into my room one day and started yelling at me about how she heard our mum crying all the time and how I had no consideration for how I was hurting her and my sisters and Jesus, was I even listening?   
The only time I ever really spoke was snapping retorts at Stan, occasionally grunting at my mum or the girls, and I had talked to Liam briefly. He had called me to tell me that we had another interview in a week.   
It was apparently a TV interview, which I had grumbled about. I felt more at ease talking to Liam, because he did know everything that had happened to me.   
I hadn't told him what Eleanor and I had talked about. That subject was trapped in my mind, driving me steadily insane.   
Eleanor was wrong. I was never in love with Harry. Yes, I had had the smallest of crushes during the X Factor, but it had disappeared.   
He had been my best friend; I cared a lot about him.   
I was actually pretty angry that she had dared to tell me that I was unknowingly in love with him. She sounded like one of our fans.   
I was sitting in Dr. Benson's office, scowling at him.   
He talked idly, occasionally prompting me to speak, but I never did. He didn't seem irritated by it, which I found weird.   
I bit my lip and picked at a thread on the couch.   
"You know, I was driving the other day, and I heard that interview you did a few weeks ago," he said.  
I looked up.  
"Do your fans know that you haven't been visiting Harry?" he continued.  
My jaw tightened. I saw something like recognition in his eyes. He had just been made aware that it was quite a sore subject for me, if he didn't already.   
"No," I mumbled, "They don't."  
Dr. Benson looked pleased.   
"Why?" he asked.   
"You know nothing about the PR industry, apparently. They can't know that I haven't been seeing him. They'll want to know why and they'll start making up their own theories, which will probably be fairly accurate, knowing them. But we'd either have to lie, which we hate doing, or tell the truth, which then would result in saying that Harry's in love with me and that's why he tried to kill himself. And that can't happen," I said.  
He raised his eyebrows.   
"I think that's the most that I've ever heard you say," he commented.  
I rolled my eyes and then decided to be a shit and not respond.   
"I can see where you're coming from. So what do you do when they ask you how he is or questions relating to him?" Dr. Benson asked.   
I sighed irritably.   
"They don't. Interviewers are told before hand to specifically not ask me questions about Harry," I said.   
I didn't really know why I was talking. But it was mindless shit, really, stuff that came naturally to me. What's allowed to for us to say, what isn't, who to ask, who not to, proper interview etiquette. It was all shit that had been drilled into our heads by our management. They even fed us answers for some of the more basic questions.   
"Don't they get curious, the interviewers? Won't they wonder why they can't ask you?" he asked.  
I shrugged.  
"Yeah, probably. But they'd be in deep shit if they went against what they get told to do, or not to do. I don't know. It's never been a problem," I said.  
"So, you essentially said that your fans don't know why Harry tried to commit suicide. Did you tell them something different, or did you ask not to be asked that?" he asked.  
"We had to tell them something, obviously. We couldn't just say he did it for no reason. We just said that it would be kept private unless he decided he wanted them to know, and that it had nothing to do with them, but that it was something very personal to him," I said.  
"That he was in love with you," Dr.  
Benson supplied.  
I stiffened.   
"Yes," I said quietly, "But they don't know that."   
I scratched at the # tattoo on my forearm.   
Dr. Benson shifted in his seat and it creaked in protest.   
"Do you think that he'll want them to know?" he asked.  
I shook my head.  
"Definitely not. It's incredibly personal and I doubt that he wants the world to know his embarrassing secret," I snapped.   
"You think that it's embarrassing for him to be in love with you?" he asked.  
I bit my lip and shrugged.   
"I just wouldn't want anybody to know, if I was him. Not even my friends," I muttered.  
"Why?" he asked.  
"Why the fuck do you always ask me why?" I snarled, "I don't know why! That's why I'm here!"  
Dr. Benson raised his eyebrows and leaned back.  
"No, I think you're here because you know why but you won't let yourself acknowledge it," he said, "You're a very guarded person, Louis. You're even guarded against yourself, I can tell."  
"Keeps me from getting hurt," I mumbled, suddenly ashamed of my outburst.   
It really didn't make sense, because I snapped at people all the time. Dr. Benson was so nice and understanding though and all of a sudden, I just felt really bad for being such a tit to him.  
"Part of me thinks that guarding yourself so much hurts you more in the end," he said.  
I shrugged and crossed my legs underneath me on the couch.   
"I've always been this way," I said quietly, "I'll admit that I always tried to be the funny guy and I was never serious as a way of making sure that nobody had anything bad to say about me."  
"And?" he asked.  
"And, I dunno, I guess in the end, as a result, nobody ever knew me that well. I never had anybody to call my best friend. Stan, of course, but other than him, I don't think I ever really had any real friends 'till the band," I said.   
I looked up at him. I knew what he had meant when he said that I guarded myself against myself. I had never really thought about what I had just said before.   
Dr. Benson was nodding slowly, looking thoughtful.   
"What's different about your bandmates then? Why do they see you for who you are?" he asked.  
"I guess it's because we spend so much time together that it's impossible to put on the funny guy act all the time. Sure, I still am, but it's part of my personality to like making people laugh. I just can't do it all the time and they've seen me at the times that I can't," I said.  
"Who would you say that you're closest too? It can be anyone," he said.  
I sighed and contemplated the question.   
"For the past three years, I wouldn't have hesitated to say Harry. But I've realized how far apart I let us grow and I didn't even notice until he tried to kill himself. Now, I don't know. I don't really talk to anybody. If I had to pick somebody, maybe Liam," I answered.   
"Why Liam? Why not Niall or Zayn or Stan or anybody else?" Dr. Benson asked.  
"I dunno. I guess I've just talked to Liam more recently," I muttered.  
He nodded.  
"Well, Louis, you can go now. But I really enjoyed talking to you today," he said.  
I stood slowly, one of my knees cracking in the process.  
"I did too," I said quietly, and I found that it wasn't a lie.  
As usual, Stan was waiting for me when I came out. For some reason, nobody trusted me to drive to and from appointments.  
"Hey, Louis," he greeted.   
I grunted at him, thinking over all Dr. Benson and I had talked about.   
We were about halfway to the house when I finally spoke up.   
"Stan?" I asked.  
"I'm not taking you to get drunk, Louis," he growled immediatly.  
I shrank back, rather hurt that that was his immediate assumption. I couldn't blame him though.   
"No, that's not what I was going to ask you," I said quietly.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Lou. Go ahead," he said sincerely.   
"Um. Well, do you think that I keep myself too guarded?" I asked hesitantly.   
Stan stared at me for as long as he could without the possibility of crashing the car.  
"I think that you could definitely open up and let us know what the fuck is going on with you. But before this all happened, no, not really. I think that you did guard yourself a lot, especially when you met new people, but no, I don't think that it was ever too much. Why?" he asked.   
I shrugged.  
"I was just wondering," I said simply, turning to stare out of the window.  
"Alright," he said, sounding confused, "But Louis, I definitely think that you're way, way too guarded lately."  
I didn't reply and he huffed in irritation.   
He dropped me off saying, "I'd stay, Louis, but you're just going to lock yourself in your room anyways, so what's the point?"   
I flinched slightly and as I went into the house, I frantically tried to build up more walls around me.   
"Louis?" my mum called from the kitchen.  
I started up the stairs without replying.  
"Louis? There's someone here for you," she continued.   
I growled under my breath. I was back inside of my comfort zone full of irritation and anger.   
I stomped into the kitchen and then I froze.   
Blood rushed to my face and anger surged from my mind and through my body.   
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I spat.   
Sitting there in all of his irritating glory, was Felix.   
"Louis!" my mother barked.   
Felix stood and I noticed disdainfully that he was tall. If he wasn't as tall as Harry, he was taller. He could have passed for very attractive but I decided right then that I hated messy dark blonde hair and his green eyes. I didn't mind Harry's green eyes.   
He reached his hand out for me to shake.   
"I'm Felix," he said warmly, "Harry's old roommate."   
I eyed his hand in the same way that I would if he was holding shit until he dropped it back to his side.   
"Louis," my mum repeated, her tone warning.  
"I was driving through on my way back to London from staying at a friend's house, and I remembered Harry mentioning that you lived here. So I decided to stop by. I got your address from Liam," he said.   
He wouldn't stop smiling and being so fucking pleasant and it was really getting on my nerves.   
"I don't like you," I said simply, looking up at him and giving him my dirtiest look.  
"For the love of God, Louis! Try and be civil!" my mother cried, throwing her hands up and finally leaving the kitchen.   
Felix frowned.   
"I'm sorry. I've never met you or talked to you before, so I don't know what I've done to make you dislike me," he said, sounding hurt.  
I rolled my eyes and smirked, but I didn't reply.  
"Would you like to sit? I'd just like to talk to you," he invited.   
"Don't invite me to do something in my own fucking house," I growled, but I sat down anyways.   
"Alright. I'm sorry," he apologized, sounding so bloody sincere that I almost had to laugh.   
"So, what the fuck are you doing here?" I asked.   
"I told you, I was coming through anyways and I wanted to meet you," he said.  
I raised my eyebrows.   
"Look, I know a lot about Harry and I know a lot about you two. I just wanted to talk to you. I know that you've got to be pretty special if you've got Harry wrapped around your little finger like you do," he added.  
I bristled and I tried not to bare my teeth like a dog. Felix was nauseatingly polite but I hated him with a passion.   
"You know nothing about Harry and I," I growled, "Nothing."  
"He's told me just about everything about you two. I know all about how you met and everything from then on," Felix said, smiling pleasantly, "He talks about you all the time."   
"I find that incredibly hard to believe. I always hear that he hardly ever mentions me and when he does, he looks like he's going to fucking be sick or cry or some shit," I snapped.   
Felix looked around the kitchen for a few seconds before he met my eyes again.   
His eyes were bright and completely serious as he spoke.   
"Harry's told me things that he doesn't even feel comfortable telling his therapist. He's cried in my arms probably over a hundred times. It's true that at first he couldn't even say your name without getting upset, but he's gotten past that. I've spent entire nights awake with him when he just couldn't stop telling me every little detail about you. I know that he finds it adorable that you hate socks and that he doesn't mind you're horrendously smelling feet at all. I know every tattoo that you have and exactly where it is. I knew exactly what you looked like before you walked through that door. And it sounds creepy, but that's just how much he's talked to me about you," Felix said.   
My throat suddenly felt tight but I swallowed several times until the feeling went away.  
I smiled slightly. Just the thought that Harry hadn't completely forgotten that I existed made me the tiniest bit happier. I knew that it was ridiculous that he would literally forget about me, but sometimes I couldn't help myself.   
"He really misses you, you know," Felix said quietly.  
My smile vanished and I probably really did bare my teeth at him.   
"Then why the fuck hasn't he talked to me? If he misses me that much, then it can't be that hard to let me visit him!" I snarled.   
Felix seemed completely unaffected by my anger. It made me want to hit him, even more than I already did.   
He waited patiently until I was merely seething and I didn't appear as if I wanted to murder him quite as much.   
"He's scared," Felix said simply.   
"Of what? I'm not mad at him, he has to know that! I'm not going to eat him or something!" I snapped.  
"It's not that he thinks you're mad at him, which he probably does anyways. It's a logical fear. But I know that Harry's been fighting to stop loving you as hard as he can for the past, what is it, five months or so?" Felix asked.  
"Four months, three weeks, and four days," I muttered.   
"Right. Anyways, what I'm saying is, Harry still loves you. He knows he does and he's trying to fight it, but it's not really doing anything. He's scared to see you because he knows that any success that he's had in getting over you will be out the window. He's head over heels for you. Fuck, it'll be a long time before he's able to love anybody else," Felix said.  
A dark expression crossed his face briefly before he blinked it away and continued gazing at me steadily.   
"If he knows that it isn't working, why can't he just give up?" I asked.  
"You have no idea how much unrequited love hurts, Louis," he said quietly, "He knows it isn't working. But he's trying to get any advantage that he can over the situation. Some people can't just ignore it and keep acting the same around who the love. Some people can. But the question is, which way ends up hurting you more?"   
Something like defeat took ahold of him, reflecting in his eyes and his posture.  
"I didn't ask for him to be in love with me," I said weakly.   
Felix looked up, his expression darkening.   
"I didn't ask to be in love with him," he said quietly.  
His tone reminded me of the same calm, yet aloof quality that an animal would have before it struck.  
I stared at him.   
Felix ran his hands through his hair quickly and shook it out. By the time I saw his face again, there was no trace of anything but peace.   
"I'm just asking that you try and understand why he's doing what he is. I don't agree with it, but like I said, some people can't handle a situation like this like others can. And vice versa, of course," he added.   
My mum bustled in, apologizing as she bumped into Felix's chair.  
"I came in to get some tea. Would you like any?" she asked.   
"I would," I said faintly.   
Felix agreed, smiling politely.   
He was in love with Harry, Harry was in love with me and I was so fucked up that I didn't remember what love felt like.   
It was a strange, uncomfortable situation.   
Felix chatted idly to my mum, but I saw how he kept his eyes trained carefully on me.   
He knew, I realized. He knew how easily I could snap, even if it was seemingly without provocation.   
She set the mugs down in front of us and I took a sip. It burned my mouth but the brief pain cleared my head a bit.   
"Why are you here?" I asked when my mum finally left.  
Before Felix could open his mouth, I added, "Don't bullshit me. Why are you really here? What do you want?"   
He blinked owlishly.   
"Truthfully? Like I said, I just wanted to meet the infamous Louis Tomlinson. But I suppose I didn't want to meet Harry's best friend. I wanted to meet who he fell in love with," he said, shrugging.   
"You wanted to meet your competition," I corrected.  
His jaw clenched. I had struck a nerve, I realized.   
"No. Well, maybe yes, in the darkest parts of my heart. I won't say for sure," he said idly, "But the more rational part knows that I don't even stand a chance against you. Is it a crime to want to meet you?"   
I shook my head.   
Then in an effort to change the topic, I asked, "So why were you in rehab, exactly?"   
"Drugs. I don't even know what all I was doing whenever my parents put me in there. Hardcore shit, I think," he said, "It's nothing that I'll ever be tempted back to."  
I frowned.   
"Aren't they addictive? Well, obviously they are, but how can you not be tempted by them?" I asked.  
Felix took a slow sip of his tea.   
"It's a mental thing really. The difference between me and Harry or me and a lot of other addicts, is that my body wants it, but no part of my mind does. Harry's mind wants the adrenaline or the rush or the calm from cutting or throwing up. His mind is addicted to it, not just his body. And sure, drugs are addictive to the brain, that's how you get addicted to something, but I don't want to do them at all. So it's a lot easier for me to not want it than it is for Harry to not want to cut," he explained.   
I licked my lips and sorted out the information he had given me.   
"How is he?" I finally asked, a bit apprehensively.   
"He's...he's good, as good as he can be. His mind is incredibly damaged, which makes it difficult for him to get past all of the different issues. It's interesting actually. He still digs his nails into his arms and snaps rubber bands against his wrists, but I think if you gave him a razor and told him he could cut, he wouldn't," Felix said, "He knows that he's come much too far to ruin it. He doesn't want to ruin it. He's way, way stronger than he thinks he is."   
I nodded absently, tapping my fingers against my mug.   
"He's going to come home early, I'll tell you that. There's like a month and a week left? I'll say maybe two weeks off of that. He's healing well, the center knows that, and he's got a kickass support system here. As long as he doesn't have any major breakdowns and doesn't recess at all, he'll come home early," Felix said confidently.   
I smiled, but nervousness pooled in my stomach. What would I do when I saw him again? I had no clue what to do, how to treat him.   
"The question is, how are you, Louis?" he asked.  
I didn't answer. I didn't know how to. Did I lie? I didn't dare tell the truth. But I didn't want to lie.   
"I know about, you know. What happened. Before you and your fiancée broke up," he said quietly, "I know that you aren't fine."   
I stiffened.   
"You have no right to know about that," I spat through gritted teeth without looking up, "How the hell do you know about that?"  
"When Liam stayed with you that day, he called Niall and Zayn while they were visiting. They asked me if they should tell Harry what was happening and eventually, they decided that I would tell him because he was the most comfortable with me," Felix explained.   
There were so many things that angered me.   
I felt my skin start to crawl and I started to sweat. I could feel Ben's touches along my body.   
"You don't know anything. Nobody knows anything. Nobody has any idea what I've gone through because of Harry fucking Styles!" I yelled.  
I jumped out of my chair, knowing my mug over on the process. Still-hot tea spilled everywhere on the table.  
"If he talks about me just as much as you say, you can tell him that I said to go fuck himself and that I don't care if he ignores me because I never want to see him again!" I snarled, but I knew that Felix could hear the shaking in my voice.  
I bolted up the stairs to my room in a frenzy and slammed the door to the toilet.   
I turned the shower on and got in with my clothes on.   
I sat down and let the water beat down on me until it was freezing cold and I was shaking, but I didn't want to move.   
"Louis," Felix said quietly.   
He had appeared next to the tub, kneeling on the floor.   
"Louis, come out. We'll get you warm, okay?" he said.  
He reached through the shower spray to turn it off, getting himself wet in the process.   
He all but picked me up, grabbing towels on the way out.   
My teeth chattered and I shook as he carefully peeled my soaking wet clothes off of my body.  
"I'm sorry, Louis. I didn't mean to upset you. I knew that it's a sensitive subject and that I shouldn't have brought it up," he said.  
I didn't find it weird that a guy I had just met was undressing me while I did little to help him and handing me a pair of track pants and a heavy jumper.   
I blinked at him blankly. He nodded and helped me into the dry clothes.   
"You're so cold," he muttered as he tugged the jumper over my head.   
He bundled me up in the sheets and duvet in my bed and set a fresh mug of what I assumed was tea next to me.   
"It was great meeting you, Louis," he said quietly, "I mean it. And I want to meet you again when you're the Louis that Harry tells me about."   
Felix left.   
I turned around to face the wall and I cried for hours

 

Harry's POV

"I met Louis."   
That was the first thing that Felix said to me when he walked into my room during visiting hours.   
Niall, Zayn and Liam were already there, sitting on a sofa that I had persuaded the staff to let me have in my room.   
"You met Louis?" I asked incredulously, "When?"   
"I happened to be passing through Doncaster and I remembered that you said he lived there. So I took a little detour," he said, sitting down on my bed and stretching out.  
Liam, Niall and Zayn exchanged looks.   
"He didn't like hit you or anything, did he?" Zayn asked.  
Felix shook his head.  
"No. He was quite lovely actually, once he was done listing the reasons why he disliked me. No, really, he was nice to talk to," he said.  
"What'd you talk about?" I asked.  
"Obviously a lot about you. Nothing you wouldn't want me to say, of course. I will say that Louis is quite protective though," he said.   
Liam snorted under his breath. Or might have been Niall. I couldn't tell.   
"He really did not appreciate me saying that you've told me nearly everything about you two," Felix said, "But I don't think he appreciated me in general."  
"Louis doesn't appreciate anything or anyone," Zayn snorted, "He doesn't really care at all anymore."  
"He does. He just doesn't show it until he's provoked," Felix said.   
"I feel like you know Louis better than we do just by one conversation with him," Niall said, half-jokingly, half-serious.   
"You do understand people well, though," I said, resting my chin on Felix's shoulder.   
"Mm," he said, reaching his hand to tug on my hair lightly, "I may have actually him though."   
"Why?" Liam asked, looking worried.   
"I asked him how he was. And then I told him that I knew about what happened, like when he got half-raped or whatever you want to call it. It really upset him, I think. Then he went and sat in a freezing shower with his clothes on until I pulled him out after an hour," Felix sighed, "By the way Harry, he said to go fuck yourself and that he never wants to see you again."  
I flinched because even though I probably deserved Louis being mad, it still hurt to know that I was hurting him.   
In theory, the way Felix had put it was a bit harsh, but the tone of his voice was anything but that. He hadn't intended it to hurt; he had just said it because he had figured that I should know.   
"I'm fairly sure he's said that to all of us," Niall said.  
"He doesn't mean it. The only thing he wants is to see you," Felix said.   
"I know," I said quietly, "I just hate knowing that I'm the one who's done this to him."  
Felix pulled me against his side and kissed my temple.  
"You've done nothing wrong," he murmured, "You need to focus on getting better, not him."  
I nodded and he gently rubbed his thumb over my scars. They were fading, just barely. I knew that several of them, especially the vertical ones, would never entirely go away.   
"Hey, lovers," Niall called, "You want us to go so that you can snog in private?"   
I looked up, flushing slightly. Felix smiled lazily. I didn't know how he did it, how he acted as if his feelings were only platonic.   
"No, we're good," he snorted.  
Niall, Zayn and Liam left before the visiting hours were over, but Felix stayed.   
"He misses you so much," he murmured, "H, I really think that you should see him."   
I stiffened.  
"We've had this discussion before. I'm not going to," I said.  
"I told him this and I'll tell you too- you're so much stronger than you think you are. Harry, it's hurting you both to ignore him. I used to never thing that it was that big of a deal, but just talking to him...I feel so bad for what he's going through," Felix said.   
I sat up and wriggled out of his arms.  
"You said yourself that I need to focus on getting myself better! This is what will help me heal!" I snapped.   
"But then old wounds will just break open when you go home," Felix said, "You can't avoid him forever."   
"I wish that I could. Running away to that cave in what was it, Germany? It's sounding better and better," I grumbled.   
Felix sat up and turned to face me, his legs overlapping with mine.   
"You've got less then a month, yeah? If you leave early, that is. I think you will. Then you're free," he said.   
I nodded.   
"I'm scared," I admitted, "You've been right since the beginning. This place is a bubble and I don't want to leave."  
"You know, I think that you can't completely heal until your relationship with Louis is healed," Felix said.   
"Then I'll probably never heal," I said gruffly.   
"If you let him help fix you, you will. He needs help too. Christ, you two need each other on so many levels," he sighed.   
"I need you too," I said, leaning forwards so that I was resting the top of my head on his chest.   
"I'm not going anywhere," he muttered, pulling me onto his lap, "I couldn't if I tried."


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I updated and I'm so sorry!! I'm just never feeling inspired anymore.

Louis's POV

I was shipped back to London for the TV interview.  
I stayed with Liam again, much to my displeasure.  
Despite the fact that I was exhausted in every sense of the word, I didn't sleep for even a minute.  
"Louis? Time to get up," Liam said gently, shaking my shoulder.  
"Fuck off," I snarled, batting his hand away roughly.  
It was unreasonable and mean, but I was in a horrendous mood.  
He recoiled immediatly.  
"We've got to leave in an hour, so if you want to shower, you probably should soon," he said.  
"Fuck off," I repeated, pulling the sheet over my head.  
"Whatever, Louis," he sighed, "Just be ready to go, okay?"  
I decided against taking a shower. I knew that my hair probably looked greasy, but I was in the mood to spite people and I knew that lately Lou had a hard job when it came to making me look good.  
I smirked at myself in the mirror when I finally got up.  
She would have to put on makeup by the pound to make me look like anything but week-old road kill.  
As usual, I grabbed the first clothes I saw and oh-  
I bit my lip. I had thrown a bunch of clothes in a bag when I had left my mums and I had somehow taken Harry's "Harry <3 Louis" shirt along with me.  
I didn't even remember how I had come to be in possession of it, but it smelled faintly like Harry and I had an inexplicable urge to roll in it like a dog.  
I didn't do anything like that.  
I threw it across the room like it had burned me and I picked up a plain black shirt.  
I made sure to take my time getting dressed and brushing my teeth.  
"Lou?" Liam called, "We really need to go!"  
I rolled my eyes to myself, but I headed down to him.  
He studied me as I put my shoes on.  
"No offense, Lou, but you look like shit," he said.  
I blinked, my eyes stinging with exhaustion.  
"I'll work on it," I quipped, "Sometimes I like to go for a more natural look, but apparently it's not a crowd favorite."  
Liam snorted, but it was laced with sadness.  
"Louis, I've said it before and I'll probably say it again, but you're going to ruin yourself if you don't sleep more," he sighed.  
"I'm already ruined," I said evenly, "Don't we need to leave?"  
It was in a tone of voice that I knew Liam recognized enough to know that it meant to leave me alone.  
We hit traffic on the way.  
Liam cursed as we came to a complete standstill.  
"Think I have time to take a wee before we move?" I drawled, kicking my feet up to place them on the dashboard.  
"Shut up, Louis. We're going to be really late," he grunted, tapping the wheel anxiously.  
"Maybe we'll miss it," I said, tipping my head back and shutting my eyes, "S'not a bad idea."  
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or something? You're being even more snippier than usual," he grumbled.  
"Babe, I never fell asleep on the right side," I said.  
Liam made a frustrated noise. I didn't know if it was because I hadn't slept at all or because we had yet to move.  
A painfully slow hour later, Liam was grabbing my wrist and dragging me into the building.  
Zayn and Niall sighed with relief when they saw us.  
It wasn't a live interview, but we still had a schedule to follow. Liam and I were nearly a half hour late.  
"Shitty traffic," Liam explained, pushing me towards Lou's chair.  
She took one look at me and groaned.  
"Literally, no matter what I do, you're still going to look exhausted and in need of a shower," she complained.  
"Because I am," I agreed, "So how about we save everybody's eyes and I just go home?"  
"You're being annoying, Louis," she said.  
She halfhazardly styled my hair into a messy quiff that made it look slightly less greasy. Then she put as much makeup under my eyes as she could without it looking like I had a shit ton of makeup under my eyes.  
It really only did a little to mask the fact that I looked like shit.  
Microphones were frantically clipped onto our shirts and before I knew it, we were being shoved out onstage.  
The interviewer reached out to shake my hand, but I walked past her.  
Zayn pinched my hip when we sat down in warning.  
I realized that I had no idea what the interviewer was going to ask us. We hadn't had time for me to look at the questions.  
I shifted uncomfortably and ran my hand through my hair, undoubtably messing up the already disastrous quiff.  
She ran through standard interview questions. We'd gotten a lot of questions about whether or not we were working on a new album, which we weren't.  
"Do you have the dates planned out for your pushed-back tour?" she asked.  
Christ, where had this woman been for the past five months?  
"They're all the same dates, nearly, just a year late. We figured it would be easiest to do it like that, plus it'll give us time to rehearse again," Liam said.  
"We also haven't been singing as much as we usually do; at least I haven't. We need to get back into that as well," Zayn added.  
"Speaking of getting back into things, what will happen once Harry comes back? There's, what, a month left?" she asked.  
"Probably a bit less, yeah," Niall agreed, "He said something about getting out like a week or two early."  
"That's great!" the interviewer said, grinning.  
Her lipstick was bright pink. It was annoying me.  
"As far as what'll happen, we're not very sure yet. He'll probably live with one of us, for safety reasons, obviously," Liam said.  
Me, I thought, he's living with me, no matter what anybody says.  
"I suppose we'll all need to ease back into things, not just Harry. We've had nearly six months of doing next to nothing and we know that it'll be tough to get back into, especially for him. He won't have seen any paparazzi or any fans or had an interview for six months. Obviously he remembers it, but he's not used to it anymore," Liam continued.  
She nodded, looking so interested in every word that he said that I had to wonder if she was completely faking it.  
"So what about that roommate of his, Felix?" she asked.  
Both Zayn and Niall on either side of me simultaneously put an arm around my shoulders.  
They looked at each other and laughed, passing it off as a coincidence. But the way they were gripping me was not a joke.  
I struggled to beat down my irritation.  
The only thing I ever heard about was Felix. Felix this, Felix that. It was so beyond annoying that I wanted to hit him.  
And also the interviewer for asking about him. The subject of Felix was not okay.  
"Everyone on Twitter was begging me to ask about him. He and Harry are like the next Larry Stylinson," she continued.  
It was really not okay.  
Two forbidden subjects in one sentence.  
I couldn't even mask the dark glare that I sent her way. Zayn and Niall were gripping my shoulders so hard that it hurt, but I was thankful that they were.  
"He's a great lad, really. Half the time I wonder if he hasn't done more for Harry than Harry's actual therapist," Niall said lightly.  
"Oh, yes, he's really lovely," I said, not nothing to disguise the sarcasm dripping from my voice.  
She didn't seem to notice.  
"I talked to him for the first time a few days ago, actually," I added.  
I froze when I realized my mistake.  
"For the first time? Wouldn't you have seen him when you visited Harry?" she asked, looking confused.  
My heart raced as I fought to come up for a lie.  
"I guess that came out a bit wrong, didn't it?" I said quickly, my voice squeaking slightly, "I mean like, I've seen him and spoken to him before, but I've never like really talked to him, you know? Like, we say hello and goodbye and other things when we're with Harry, but I've never gotten the chance to have an actual, in-depth conversation. So a few days ago, he was in Doncaster and he stopped by and I got the chance to have a nice conversation with him for the first time."  
It made sense in theory, but I knew that a lot of our fans would see right through the lie. Even the interviewer was staring at me skeptically.  
"You do visit Harry, correct?" she asked.  
I swallowed hard and fought to compose myself.  
"Why wouldn't I?" I replied.  
It wasn't a lie, which I was proud of. I hated lying to people. But I wasn't exactly saying that I had.  
She left it alone though, and continued on with the interview.  
I was still shaking when we stood up and walked off the stage. Liam put his arm around me carefully and I let it stay there.  
"I just fucked everything up," I whispered.  
"Lou, it's okay. Some people'll believe what you said and the ones who figure out the truth probably already had anyways," Zayn said gently.  
"Maybe you should sit down, mate. You're white as a ghost," Niall suggested.  
They herded me into the dressing room and sat me down in a chair.  
"But I don't want people to know!" I wailed, "They'll figure out everything else!"  
"Louis, it's okay. Just settle down," Liam said, "If they do, we'll ignore it, alright? Or if it becomes way to much, we can address it and if need be, we can lie."  
I shook my head.  
"This is all my fault. All of it," I said, covering my face with my hands.  
They knew that I wasn't just talking about what had happened during the interview.  
"Lou, you gotta quit blaming yourself. None of this is your fault," Niall insisted, "Remember that discussion we had on Liam's balcony?"  
I shot him a look. I remembered it quite well, he had bloody kissed me!  
"Unfortunately," I growled.  
Slowly, the fear and panic was draining away into the chamber where I locked up my emotions inside of a steel safe.  
"Take me home, Liam," I ordered, "I don't want to be here anymore."  
They exchanged glances and sighed. I knew what they had been hoping for.  
"I don't know why you lads are always so convinced that we'll have some impromptu therapy session and everything will magically become okay. I'm fine, I don't need any fucking therapy from a professional and I don't need any from you," I snapped.  
"There comes a time, Louis, where sometimes other people know what's better for you more than you do," Zayn said quietly, "I'm tired of seeing you go down the same route of self-destruction that Harry did."  
"I'm nothing like Harry!" I snarled, jumping up.  
"You're exactly like him," Zayn countered, "Exactly."  
"I'll be in the car," I barked to Liam before turning and attempting at a dramatic exit.  
Zayn grabbed my wrist and yanked me back.  
"No, you're going to talk to us now," he growled, "Or I swear to fucking God, Louis..."  
"You'll what? You can't take anything away from me; you can't possibly do anything to punish me. I've lost everything already, Zayn," I said, ripping my wrist out of his grip.  
He studied me carefully.  
"You know that Harry'll have to live with one of us, Lou; we can't trust him to be by himself anymore. In all honesty, I think it should be you. I think it'll help you both. But Louis, you have to fix yourself first before that can happen. Harry needs somebody who, for lack of better words, is completely sane. And honestly Louis, I don't think that you are. So yeah, we can still take something away from you, and that's it," he said.  
I recoiled slightly, but then I quickly recomposed myself.  
"If you think I'm so fucking insane, why don't you just lock me in a bloody padded room?" I spat.  
"Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn't," Zayn sighed, "But you don't need to be alone anymore than you already are. That's the last thing you need."  
The other two silently watched our exchange. I had a feeling that Zayn was saying everything that they were thinking anyways.  
"How would you know what I need? Unless you're suddenly psychic, you've got no idea what's in my head," I argued.  
"That's exactly the problem. You've never been the most open person but this...this is the longest conversation I've had with you in months. And all it is is us going around in circles. I'm sick of it, Louis. I don't know if your therapist is helping at all but if he isn't, you need something more," Zayn said.  
"I need Harry," I said quietly, my voice low and cautious.  
"When he gets back, it's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better, Louis. You need to be strong enough for both of you and you aren't even strong enough for yourself right now," he replied, his voice a fraction more gentle.  
I gave him a look.  
"I'm getting better," I said firmly.  
"I don't know if I should believe you," he challenged.  
"I haven't had anything to drink in weeks," I said, "And it sucks absolute arse but I haven't."  
"Felix said that he had to drag you out of a freezing shower with your clothes on after he mentioned what happened before you and Eleanor broke up," he said.  
I froze, immediatly feeling my skin crawl.  
"That's different," I said faintly.  
"It's something that you're not letting yourself heal from," Zayn pointed out.  
"Because everything I think about it...oh god, I feel like I'm going to throw up," I said, rubbing clammy hands over my face.  
"Louis, you were raped. You have to acknowledge it," he insisted.  
All at once, the discussion became too much.  
"Stop it, Zayn, seriously, please just stop! I've had enough, okay? I'm done, please just stop," I begged, backing away and looking around frantically for an exit.  
"If it's not me that you talk about this with, talk to somebody, please, Louis," he urged.  
"Okay; okay, I will, just stop now, please," I said, wrapping my arms tightly around me in a vain attempt to keep my emotions locked in.  
"I should take him home," Liam said, finally speaking up.  
Zayn grunted, his eyes still locked on me.  
Niall was nervously gnawing on the skin of his pointer finger, a habit that I had to assume that he had picked up from Harry.  
"C'mon Lou," Liam said tentatively.  
I followed him out to his car wordlessly.  
"Zayn was right, you know. About everything," he said, starting the car.  
"I know," I said quietly.  
He looked up at me.  
"You don't have to say anything more than 'yes' or 'no', but have you ever thought about killing yourself?" Liam asked.  
"You've asked me this before, I think," I replied, nimbly sidestepping the question.  
Unfortunately, he picked up on it.  
"Louis," he sighed.  
"Fine, Liam," I snapped, "Other than the fleeting thought that everybody has sometimes, no, I haven't. I don't know why the hell you would think I would do that, especially after Harry."  
"I never thought that he'd actually try to kill himself, Lou. I'm just worried, okay?" Liam said.  
"If I would have, I would have done it a while ago. I'm not going without seeing Harry again," I said.  
There was something darker, a menacing underlying tone that I knew that Liam heard. He frowned at me, but he didn't say anything else.

 

Harry's POV 

"How the fuck do you work this?" Felix grunted, trying to find the video setting on my camera.  
I laughed and took it from him, squinting to find the right button.  
We were outside, walking around the grounds, and the sun made the screen hard to see.  
"You're so stupid," I muttered, ducking when he swatted at me, "But seriously, where the fuck is the button?"  
"See?" Felix howled, "Fucking hypocrite!"  
I made as if to throw the camera at him and he flinched, raising his arms instinctively.  
We went under a tree so that the sun didn't block the screen. I grunted in triumph when I found the correct button.  
I hit it to record and turned the camera to face us.  
"Hi!" Felix said before I could.  
"H-"  
"Harry says hi too," he interrupted.  
I frowned at him and opened my mouth to speak.  
"He's got a sore throat today," he continued.  
"No I d-"  
"It's very bad. He's not allowed to speak," Felix said, grinning at me.  
"You're being-"  
"Sh, Harry. Don't want your throat getting worse," he laughed.  
"B-"  
"Sh," he cooed, petting my hair.  
"I-"  
"Harry. No talking," he said sternly.  
I forced my hand over his mouth, undoubtably shaking the camera as he struggled to get away.  
"He's lying!" I cried, "He's being a prick."  
Felix managed to stumble away, cackling wildly.  
"You looked so pissed at me, mate," he snickered.  
"You're a prick," I repeated, trying to be serious, but a smile found its way to my lips anyways.  
"You wouldn't have me any other way," he insisted.  
"No, I wouldn't," I sighed.  
"Anyways. Now that we've got that cleared up, let's tell them what we'll be doing today," Felix said.  
"So, I guess Felix managed to get into my Twitter, I'm not sure how, but he did. Anyways, he asked you guys to ask us questions, and I guess he brought a few of them for us to answer?" I prompted.  
He tried to dramatically pull the paper out of his pocket, but he failed miserably, dropping it when he got it out.  
"Smooth," I commented.  
Felix rolled his eyes at me.  
"You know that if you did it, you'd probably manage to light the paper on fire instead of just dropping it," he grunted as he bent down to pick it up.  
"That is true. So. What do our lovely fans want to know?" I asked.  
"Your lovely fans," he corrected.  
"Felix, knowing them, you've probably got more than a few by now," I said.  
"I've been meaning to tell you, I'm the next big thing," Felix said, "All the gossip magazines say so."  
"Yeah? What's your talent?" I snorted.  
"I'm like the Kardashians. I don't need a talent," he said.  
"Unfortunately, you don't have a good enough bum," I replied, ducking when he swiped at me.  
"We've gotten really off topic," he laughed.  
"I'm saying that it was your fault," I said.  
"As always. Is it ever your fault?" he groaned.  
"Sometimes. Not with you, though," I said, grinning cheekily, "Actually, in all honesty, most things are usually my fault with us."  
Felix patted my cheek.  
"You've finally admitted it," he said, "Now that we've cleared that up, we really should answer these questions."  
I nodded and leaned over to him to try and read what he had written down.  
"Anyways, to start off, @xcheesyx wants to know how we're doing," he said, "Well, I'm good. A little bit stung that Harry said that I didn't have a good enough bum to make it as a Kardashian."  
I rolled my eyes.  
"It's true, though. I'm quite dandy today, as a matter of fact," I replied.  
"Next question, from @SalLovesNiallForever, they want to know when you're getting out," Felix said.  
"I'm fairly sure like three weeks maybe? It was originally supposed to be a bit longer, but I've been a good boy, so there's really no point in staying for very much longer," I said.  
"Are you excited to join the real world again?" Felix asked.  
"Yeah, of course. I can't wait, really. Obviously it's been really nice being here, though. I mean, I really wasn't in the best of ways when I came here, and I'm a bit frightened of leaving, but yeah, I think I'm ready," I said, "Like, it'll be great to see all of you guys again and go back to performing. Plus, I don't get to see a lot of people that I'm friends with because there's pretty strict regulations here. Like the other lads, the three of them can only visit like twice a week, when I'm used to being with them every day. I miss that."  
Felix shot me a look, quick enough that most people wouldn't catch it.  
"Um. Also from @SalLovesNiallForever, Harry?" Felix prompted.  
He pointed at a question. At first, I figured that he wanted me to read it, but when I did, I realized that he had just wanted to make sure that I was okay with him asking it.  
I gave him a tiny nod.  
"'Does Felix ship Helix or Larry?'" I read, the question gritting out of my mouth like sand.  
He threw his arm around my shoulders, squeezing lightly.  
"Is that even a question?" he snorted, grinning at me.  
Felix's eyes were gentle though, and calming.  
"Of course I ship Helix! Why would I ship another ship more than I ship a ship with me in it?" he scoffed, "Plus, I'm madly in love with dear Harry, I've got to ship Helix all the way."  
I laughed, but I knew that he was only telling the truth.  
"On a similar note, @haroldsbuttons9 wants to know if we're in love," he continued, "I'm assuming that she's asking if we're in love with each other. The answer would be a bit different if it was just 'are we in love', wouldn't it?"  
I hummed in response.  
"You're quite lovely, Felix, but I don't think I'm in love with you. I love you mate, but not that way," I said, squinting up at him against the sun.  
"I'm wounded, dear Harry! All those lies you've told me in the night after rounds of delicious love-making!" he squawked.  
That set me off and before I knew it, I had dropped the camera because I had been laughing so hard.  
When we recovered, I turned to him, amused.  
"You do know that younger people watch these, right?" I asked.  
"Put a parental guidance warning on it or something, then!" Felix said.  
"I don't think you can do that with You Tube," I said.  
"Whatever. Final question. @BekahHoran wants to know how you're coping without me by your side constantly," he said.  
"I have a feeling that you were in a self-glorifying mood when you picked out these questions," I dead-panned.  
He shrugged.  
"Can't say that I wasn't," he said.  
"Whatever. Um, well, I guess that it's just been really weird? I've sort of gotten used to it by now, but sometimes it gets depressing when I can't sneak into your bed so we can cuddle," I said.  
"You know it's been absolutely terrible. You can say so," he said.  
"You're terrible!" I shot back.  
"Again, I can't argue with that," he said.  
"I guess it's just been a lot lonelier. Like, I've got other friends, and you visit twice a week, but it's just not the same," I sighed theatrically, batting my eyelashes at him.  
"But it's okay because we're moving in together into a cave in Germany when you're out," he said.  
"Of course, darling. Well, we should go, I think. I've got to eat soon," I said.  
"Delicious," Felix said.  
"Bye!" I said, drawing it out until Felix chimed in.  
"Beautiful harmony," he commented just before I stopped recording.  
We started to walk back inside.  
"You know, you slipped up a little," he said.  
"What?" I asked, confused, "When?"  
"When you were talking about the lads visiting you. You said the three of them," he said.  
I looked at him, even more confused.  
"Yeah?" I prompted.  
"You forgot that you've got four bandmates, not three. Your fans'll catch that, you know. Especially since Louis messed up in an interview yesturday," he said.  
"Shit, I didn't even notice," I cursed, "What'd he do?"  
"He mentioned something about talking to me for the first time the other day, which is strange, because if he had been visiting you, he'd have talked to me before. He made up some excuse that was actually pretty impressive, but your fans definitely caught it."  
"So they basically know," I muttered, "Have they figured the rest out?"  
"Obviously some people have had the correct theory of what happened since the beginning and now a few more people are wondering. It's really not that big of a deal. Most of them are either confused about why you two wouldn't see each other or they actually believed Louis's bullshit," Felix answered.  
I nodded.  
"That's usually the way it is," I mused.  
"You've just got to be careful," he warned, "Especially now that you've both slipped up."  
"Yeah," I agreed.  
The world really did not need to know the reason behind my scars.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter, guys!!! Then Untouchable will begin!!

Louis's POV

Rape was a complex word.  
I told Dr. Benson as much once I got back to Doncaster.   
I'd spent two more relatively sleepless nights turning what Zayn had said over in my head.   
I knew he was right and I was terrified that they wouldn't let Harry live with me. I was scared that he'd continue to ignore me once he got back and I figured that he couldn't do that if we lived together again.   
Plus, I remembered how fun it had been living with Harry. I wasn't stupid enough to think that we'd be best friends again when he came back, but I was going to try as hard as I could to get what we had had back.   
"Elaborate on that," Dr. Benson instructed.  
I shrugged.  
I was sitting cross-legged on his couch, wearing a shirt that I had realized was Harry's only after I had put it on.   
"I guess I mean like, if you heard or read it, without any context or knowing what it meant, you wouldn't really think it doesn't have good connotations. It's simple and it's short and you probably wouldn't give it a second thought. And when you heard what it means, you still probably wouldn't think about just how complicated it is," I explained, shifting uneasily.   
I wanted to get better; I had to get better, and I knew that that involved talking about things I didn't want to talk about. I had so little time and I was scared.   
I had talked to my mum the night before, explaining everything that had happened to me.   
I hadn't been able to look at her when I had spoken. Part of me, the part of me that was beyond repair, said that she'd hate me for what I'd done, that she'd kick me out and refuse to see me ever again.   
Obviously, she hadn't.  
She'd bawled her way through my story, distressed that she hadn't been there to help me. She couldn't believe that her baby had gone through so much without telling her.   
I'd found myself unable to stop talking once I had told her just a little. We'd stayed up late together, talking. Once she had gone to bed, I had stayed awake, looking out the window for hours, not thinking, until it was light outside.   
"Why is it complicated?" Dr. Benson asked.  
"When you think of uh, rape, you think of girls getting attacked in alleyways. But it's more than that. They've got to live with that for the rest of their life, some of them get pregnant. And nobody thinks about the fact that guys can get raped too," I said quietly.   
"Do you think you were raped?" he asked gently.  
I chewed on my lip, turning the idea over in my head for the millionth time.   
"Part of me says no, that I wasn't. I contacted him; I knew what I was getting myself into. I initiated it. But at the same time, I just can't help remembering how scared I was and how much I wanted it to stop. I never wanted it. I think...I think that if it had been Harry...," I trailed off.  
I sat on my hands to make them stop shaking.   
"It would have been different," Dr. Benson supplied.   
"Yeah. Maybe. He would have been gentle and loving and he would have known if I really wanted it or not. I think...I think because I never wanted it, some people could classify it as rape. But because I initiated it, I don't know if I can," I said quietly, "I've certainly got all the mental scarring of someone who's been raped."  
"Do you feel comfortable with continuing?" he suddenly asked.  
I knew that I looked a right mess. I was shaking badly and I could feel cold sweat dripping down my neck. I felt dizzy and I knew that I was probably pale.   
"Maybe for a little bit?" I said faintly.   
"Alright. Just tell me if you need to stop," he urged.   
I nodded, shutting my eyes when the movement caused the room to swirl.   
"Tell me everything that happened. As much as you can remember," he said gently.   
I nodded again and chewed on my lip thoughtfully for a moment before beginning.   
"I was over at Liam's and I'd been outside on his balcony and when I came in, they said that they were putting on some film. I guess it was a horror one; I wasn't really paying attention. Then I just...tuned in, I guess? and there was a girl cutting herself on the screen and then her parents and the police finding her. I remember realizing that the film had been paused and I just got up and walked out and went back to Harry's place," I said quietly, pinching the nerve between my thumb and index finger.   
The quick jolt of pain cleared my head.   
"You've mentioned staying there before. Why do you do that when you've got your own home?" Dr. Benson asked.  
I shrugged.  
"I dunno, really. I guess, if anything, it's just because I've not seen him for nearly six months and I miss him a lot. So I stay there because it makes me feel closer to him. In the beginning though, I always stayed there for comfort, I think. I always went to him for comfort when I was upset, so when I didn't have him, I had his bed to sleep in," I muttered, "Plus, it smelled like him, at first. And it made me feel safe."  
"Did you feel safe around him before?" he asked.  
"Always," I said, nodding.   
"Keep going. What happened after you returned to his flat?" he asked.   
I slid my thumbnail between my teeth and nibbled on it while I thought.   
"I just...there are times where I just get so desperate to understand what happened and what went wrong with him and why he did the things he did. I cut myself once, just to see if I could see the appeal in it, which I didn't. But he told me in his note that we slept together when I was really drunk once and I dunno, I was by myself in his flat and I just had to know what it felt like for him," I said, "I just go crazy for a little while, just needing to know because people won't tell me stuff. So then I end up doing stupid things."  
"I've noticed the scar on your wrist before. I never asked about it because I figured that if you wanted to share what it was from, you would," Dr. Benson said.   
I nodded, tracing my fingers over it. It sort of was covered up by my tattoo, but not completely.   
"Feel free to continue," he added.  
I nodded for probably the hundredth time. I was beginning to feel like a bobble head.   
"I um, I had met someone at a club once. He has a boyfriend, his name is Harry, but I called him and asked if he knew anyone that was looking to um, yeah. He didn't want to at first, but I guess I convinced him because I started getting texts from the guy, um, Ben, a little later and Lucas sent a picture," I said.  
I was beginning to feel dizzy and my skin was starting to crawl. My shirt clung to my back with a cold sweat.   
"He was texting me, telling me to um, to um, get myself ready, you know. And I didn't really know what he meant so I told him that I'd never done anything before and I think that was probably a mistake. But um, I tried to like, um, stretch myself out like he said to but I didn't like it so I stopped. And then he um, he got to Harry's place and um. I was so fucking scared but, like, I opened the door anyways. Why the fuck did I do that?" I whimpered, pinching the skin between my fingers again.   
"You can stop if you're not comfortable," Dr. Benson suggested.   
I shook my head.  
"I have to!" I said quickly, and then I took a deep breath and continued, "He like. I don't really remember exactly what happened cos' its all like really foggy, but um. He made me get on my knees and he like...he like...he made me like...I dunno, like he made me blow him but he was like really rough about it and I couldn't breath and I thought I was gonna vomit but he kept going and I couldn't get him to stop and I thought I was gonna suffocate but like, then he stopped, so I didn't."  
I was sort of babbling at that point, but the illogical part of me thought that the faster I talked, the easier it would be.  
It wasn't any easier.   
"And then, um, I took him to Harry's guest bedroom because I like couldn't do what we were gonna do on Harry's bed. But he like...he, you know, put his fingers in me and like...it just hurt a lot and I wanted him to stop, but I couldn't say it," I whispered.  
I could hear my heart racing; it's frantic thudding almost drowned out Dr. Benson.   
"Why not?" he asked.   
"I...I don't know. I really don't. It was like I was fucking paralyzed or something. But it hurt so bad," I said, twisting the hem of my- Harry's- shirt around my fingers until the tips turned purple.   
I took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. It didn't feel like enough. I felt like I was suffocating.   
"He-he didn't even give me any time to adjust or anything. He just shoved in and fuck-" I gasped, "It hurt so fucking bad and he didn't even wait, he just started moving and I thought that my fucking arse was going to split open and I wanted him to stop, I wanted him to stop so fucking bad but he wouldn't believe me when I finally told him to stop and then I think I said something about having a fiancée and he did stop and he hit me and called me a slut and maybe a whore or something and he left and I threw up and called Eleanor and I was just so fucking scared and alone and I wanted to die!"   
I stopped, my chest heaving for air and my eyes overflowed with a sudden onslaught of tears.   
"I just wanted Harry!" I wailed.   
Dr. Benson waited patiently as I sobbed into my hands. He made no move to comfort me. He knew that I didn't want to be touched and that words wouldn't help either.   
"Louis?" he said gently after a good twenty minutes.   
I looked up. He was blurry figure through the film of tears in my eyes.   
"You may go, if you want. Your time is up," he said.  
I nodded, wiping the tears off of my cheeks and out of my eyes as I stood up.   
"You did very well today. Personally, I'm very proud. You should be too," he said.   
I stared at him for a long moment before turning and leaving.   
As he always had, Stan was waiting outside in his car.   
He seemed a little taken aback at my disheveled appearance. He watched me warily as I got in.   
"I could really go for a bloody drink right now," I said simply.   
"Don't joke about that, Louis," he said, his voice strained.  
"I'm being completely serious. God, even some shitty beer would be nice," I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands against my forehead, working against the steady pounding inside, "I'd prefer something really strong, though. I just want to be able to forget for a little while again."   
"If you think I'm going to take you anywhere, you're sorely mistaken," he growled.   
I shot him a glowering look.   
"I'm not about to fuck this up, Stan. I've got the lads just barely considering letting Harry live with me. I'm not going to let that get away," I snapped, "Just fucking take me home already."  
He nodded silently but made no move to start his car.   
"I'm just curious, Lou, please don't be offended, but do you really think that you and Harry living together so soon is a good idea? I mean, you two haven't spoken in six months and-"  
"It will be fine," I spat, "It'll help us both, you'll see."  
"I'm just-"  
"Worried about me. Fuck, Stan, I know," I growled.   
"I know you know, Louis, but do you even care? You've treated me like shit since you came back here and you didn't talk to me at all before that! Am I just another person for you to take down with you?" he yelled.   
I felt the fight go out of me. I was supposed to be getting better, not making things worse. I only had two weeks to convince everyone that I was okay enough to live with Harry.  
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, looking down at my feet, "I really am sorry. I don't even know why I say half of the things I say. I don't mean them, though. I'm sorry."  
My eyes burned and I hoped that Stan didn't notice. My face was already tear-stained, so he might not have noticed the fresh tears threatening to slip out.   
I knew without looking that Stan was staring at me.   
"I didn't think the word 'sorry' was in your vocabulary anymore," he said, with a little half-laugh, "But it's okay, Lou, I think. I'm trying to imagine what it's like to be you right now and I can't. So I guess it's pretty shit, yeah?"  
I nodded.  
"I don't feel like myself anymore," I muttered, "I feel like I'm somebody else or something. Because these things are supposed to happen to other people, not me."  
"I get it. Trust me, I do," he said gently.  
Stan finally started his car.   
"I might've been raped," I said.  
Stan stopped his car.   
"What the fuck are you even talking about?" he said.  
"Why Eleanor broke up with me. It was cos' I slept, sort of slept, with a guy. But I can't decide if it was rape or not, cause I called and asked him to but I didn't want him to and I was so scared," I whispered.  
There was a painfully long silence.   
I risked a look at Stan. His eyes were wet and his eyebrows were furrowed together.   
"That...would explain a lot," he said slowly.   
"It's okay if you think I'm disgusting," I mumbled.   
"Why the fuck would I think that, Louis? That's completely ridiculous!" he exclaimed, "Sure, I think it was a bit dumb of you, but I don't think you're disgusting at all! Christ, Louis!"  
I flinched.   
"I think that I'm disgusting. I let him use me like that. I didn't make him stop until it went too far. I could have made him stop!" I whimpered, drawing my knees up to my chest.   
"Louis," he sighed.   
"I'm so tired," I said into my knees, "I want to sleep."  
All at once, hot tears broke free from my eyes and I started to cry.   
"I'm so fucking tired!" I sobbed.  
Stan pulled on my shoulder until I had my head tucked into his neck. He gently rubbed my back as I cried.   
"Let's get you home, Lou. You can sleep then," he said gently.  
"I can't," I sniffled.   
Stan didn't reply. He started his car again and began to drive. He let me cry into his neck as he drove.   
"C'mon, Lou," he said when we arrived.   
I slid out of the car and shuffled into the house.   
"Jay?" he called.  
My mum appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She took one look at me and began cooing over me, pulling me close.  
"He's tired," Stan explained.   
"Alright. I've got him, unless you want to stay," she said.  
"Nah. I'll talk to you later, Louis, alright?" he said.  
It was a rhetorical question. He knew that I wouldn't respond.  
My mum led me up the stairs and into my bedroom.   
"Kit off, darling," she said.  
I slid out off my clothes and a pair of trackies and a jumper were pushed into my hands.   
"I'm tired, mum," I whimpered as I crawled into bed.  
I looked up at her with bloodshot, tired eyes. I felt like a small child and I found that I didn't mind. I needed desperately to be taken care of like I was little again.  
After she gently tucked my covers around me, she sat down on the edge of my bed and slowly ran her fingers through my hair.   
"You know, when you were younger, you would get so grumpy when you were tired, but you'd never admit it. You were so high-energy and you needed a nap everyday or else it wouldn't be pretty. But you hated admitting that you were tired, so I'd send you to play in your room every day for a little while but I knew that you always took a nap then," she said quietly.  
I sniffled, blinking slowly.   
"I worry about you because of that, you know. It's silly, of course. But you always tell me how exhausting your life-style is and I want to ask if you still take a kip everyday like you used to," she said.   
"I can't sleep anymore, mummy," I said thickly, "Most nights I don't sleep at all. I'm so tired. But I don't want to take medicine."  
"I understand, sweetheart. Of course you don't want to. But what happens when Harry comes back and you have to run around like crazy every day and you've gotten no sleep?" my mum said.   
"I don't know," I whispered.   
"How about we try it? Liquid stuff. I think it'll be easier than pills for you," she said.  
"Okay," I said hesitantly.   
She got up, joints cracking. She returned a few minutes later with a bottle of greenish-blue liquid and a glass of water.  
"You've always hated the taste of this," she explained as she set the glass down next to me.  
She used the cap to measure out the right amount of the medicine and then she handed it to me.  
I stared at it. Something like it had almost killed Harry. It made my stomach turn. I could put it in my mouth but I didn't know if I could swallow it.   
"C'mon, sweetheart. It's just a little bit," she cooed.  
I took a minuscule sip and wrinkled my nose at the bitter taste.   
"Drink the whole thing at once. It'll be easier," she suggested.   
Well, no shit.   
I tipped my head back and downed the liquid in the cap quickly, gagging slightly.   
I drank about half the water in the glass.   
"I gave you a little less than it said to, just so it would make you a little more comfortable with it," she explained.   
I nodded. I knew that I was probably just imagining it, but I felt like I could already feel the medicine working in my body.   
I yawned and pulled the duvet higher.   
"Can you stay with me?" I asked softly, "Until I fall asleep?"  
My mum nodded, sitting at the edge of my bed. She started petting at my hair again and I shut my eyes. It felt good, relaxing.   
Then I fell asleep.  
When I woke up, I was rather confused. I couldn't remember what time I had fallen asleep at so I didn't know how long I had slept.   
I blinked the sticky feeling of sleep out of my eyes. I felt so awake that it was almost alarming. I had nearly forgotten what having energy felt like.   
I kicked off my covers and padded downstairs.  
"Thought you died or something," Lottie said as she walked into the kitchen.   
I looked up from where I was making myself tea.   
"Classy," I remarked.   
She looked that slightest bit guilty at how she had phrased her sentence, but she simply shrugged.   
"How long was I asleep for, anyways?" I asked curiously.   
"Assuming that you slept the entire time, about twenty hours. You could have figured it out yourself. You came home in the evening. It is now the afternoon," she said.  
"Christ, I just wanted to know," I snapped.   
I blinked down at the water that was starting to boil in front of me. It was weird. I hadn't slept for more than four hours at a time for months and now I had slept for twenty.   
"You look better," she said, "You don't have those nasty bags under your eyes anymore."  
"Thanks," I drawled sarcastically.   
Lottie hesitated for a second before saying, "Mum told me. About that, um, thing."  
I knew without asking what she was talking about.   
"I said that she could," I said quietly.   
"I'm sorry," she said.  
"You shouldn't be. It was my mistake. I literally asked for it. It was my fault that it happened in the first place," I said, gripping the mug in my hand tightly.   
"Still," she said, "Look, it's obvious that you went a little crazy. It's not your fault. It's your crazy side's fault."  
"I'm still crazy, I think," I sighed, taking a tentative sip of my tea and recoiling when it burnt my tongue.   
"Not quite so much," Lottie assured me.   
I gave her a small smile.   
"But you've always been crazy, so," she joked.   
I snorted, "Must run in the family then, 'cause you're crazy too."  
She smiled.   
"You know, it's nice to talk to you without wondering if you're going to bite my head off," she said, "This whole time, all you needed was some sleep, cranky Lou."  
I sighed and drummed my short, bitten nails against the side of my mug.   
"I needed more than just sleep, Lottie. I still need more," I said quietly, "I just don't know what it is that I need."  
"Harry?" she suggested.  
"Well, yeah. But it's bigger than him now, I think. Just like how his problems got to be bigger than me," I said.   
Lottie was quiet for a while before stepping forwards and stealing a sip of my tea. I made an indignant noise and she shrugged in response.   
"We were all scared. Not just for you, scared of you too. You were swearing all the time and you didn't care about us hearing and sometimes when you got really angry, I was afraid that you might hurt somebody, mainly yourself. And you get this look, Louis, where it's like you're a million miles away and wherever you are isn't a good place. Whenever you first came home and you'd spend all day in your bed or on a sofa, you were like a robot or something. It was scary, Louis. Please don't let yourself get back to that," she blurted.   
I shut my eyes tightly. I didn't need to cry anymore, but Lottie had struck something deep inside of me.   
"I don't think I can promise anything just yet. But I think I'm getting better. And hopefully whenever Harry comes back, we'll be able to fix our relationship at least a little bit and that'll probably help the big picture too," I said.  
"I miss him. Harry," she admitted, "He used to visit with you and I haven't seen him in ages cause he stopped coming."  
"I didn't realize how far we grew apart until it was too late," I replied.   
Lottie opened her mouth to reply, but an indignant squawk came from another room, followed by a shriek.   
She rolled her eyes at me and disappeared to settle whatever dispute our other sisters were having.  
I watched her go and I smiled at my still-steaming tea.   
I'd forgotten what having a normal conversation was like. 

 

Harry's POV 

I wrinkled my nose at Felix, Liam and Zayn. Niall was in Ireland.  
"No, I'm not living with him," I spat, "That's a terrible idea."  
"Look, babe, I think it's a good idea," Felix said.  
"I know you've mentioned it, but I never thought that you were actually being serious. Christ, that's like learning to swim and jumping straight into the middle of the ocean or something," I said.   
"If you want, you can stay with me for a week or so," Liam suggested, "It's just that people will see how off you and Louis will be with each other. Look, I know you'll never be the same with each other, but you need to at least be tolerable. You guys got so close when you lived together before."  
"I just don't want to live with him. It'll be stressful and it'll make me anxious and panicky and I just don't think it'll be healthy for me," I said.  
I could already feel my heart rate accelerating at simply the prospect of living with Louis. That meant that I would have no choice but to communicate with him on a daily basis. I'd have to see him behind closed doors, when he was the best Louis. The one that I loved best. The cuddly, soft one, sometimes fresh from a shower, smelling good and skin warm one. The one whose eyes shone brighter than they ever did onstage or when they looked over a crowd of hundreds, thousands of people screaming his name. The real Louis.   
I wasn't prepared for that Louis.   
"What does he think about it?" I asked hesitantly.  
"He's scared, obviously, but he wants it quite badly. He wants to connect with you again, Harry," Zayn said.  
Felix ran his thumb over the back of my hand, sensing my unease.   
"Maybe I don't want to connect with him," I muttered.   
"I know you're scared to death. But it'll help you heal, you know that," Felix said.   
"Or it'll just take me back to square one," I retorted.   
"You're going to have to interact with him regardless," Liam pointed out.  
"Chatting with him during rehearsal and living with him are two different interactions," I argued.  
"Just try it, H, okay? Give it a few weeks. Then you can live with one of us if you really hate it," Zayn suggested.  
"I'm scared," I admitted, picking at a loose thread on my shirt.   
"You have every right to be," Liam said.  
"I still love him. What if it only gets worse again?" I asked.  
"It probably will," Felix murmuring, hooking his chin over my shoulder, "I can show you how to deal with it and how to wank over something that you'll never have."  
I couldn't help it. I giggled quietly, even though I knew that he was in my same situation.   
"I don't want to," I said helplessly.   
They all stared at me for what felt like forever.  
"Promise that if I can't do it, you'll let me move out?" I asked.  
"Promise," Liam said.  
Zayn agreed with a nod and Felix pressed his cool fingertips into my side.   
"Okay," I whispered.  
"Normally, people's guardians, for lack of a better word, come here and have a psychiatric test done to make sure that they're okay. I think we can get that guy he's seeing to do it, though," Zayn said.  
"What guy?" I asked.  
Nobody answered.   
"Two weeks left," Felix sighed as Zayn and Liam discussed arrangements.   
"In the beginning, you told me how fast it goes. You were so right. I'm so scared to leave," I said quietly.  
"I think you'll be fine. I know you, H," Felix assured me.   
"I don't know me," I mumbled helplessly.   
"Lou's gonna be so happy," Liam said.   
"But I'm not happy. I'm terrified," I replied.  
Deep inside my chest, I wanted to live with him. I wanted everything to go back to how it was. I wanted to be able to sneak into his room for cuddles like I had used to.   
I just wanted Louis, no matter how much I pretended that I didn't.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of TMIK! The prologue and first chapter of Untouchable will be up tomorrow because it keeps crashing every time I try to add a new work so I need to go on a legit computer instead of my iPod.   
> Love you!

Harry's POV 

I wasn't ready.  
I knew that I wasn't ready to leave but nobody would believe me. They wouldn't believe me even when I had a anxiety attack over it.  
It wasn't even entirely because I would be living with Louis, although that was most of it. I was just scared because I had gotten used to the bubble of privacy and peace. Sure, I was looking forward to going back to my life, but at the same time, I was scared of the stress that came with it, especially because Louis was part of it.  
Felix was helping me pack, a reversal of our roles from when I had helped him.  
After I had stood staring into space for a good five minutes, he stopped packing.  
"Harry," he sighed.  
I looked at him and shrugged.  
"I'm scared," I said helplessly, "What if I get out there and I go right back to where I was before?"  
"You won't," he assured me.  
"But how do you know that?" I whined, sitting down on the bed.  
"You've got me now," he said, smirking playfully.  
When I didn't respond, he frowned and sat next to me. He wrapped his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder.  
"I said in my letter to Louis that if I somehow lived, I'd try again. And I did live," I whispered.  
"Do you want to try again?" he asked.  
"No, I don't think so. Not anymore. I...when I tried the first time, I was in so much pain that I forgot about the reasons why I had never tried before. People always say that they want to see how people would react if they died. I thought that too, but now...now I know that I don't want to ever see something like again. I lived and I still saw how horrible it was for my family and friends. I think that if anything, if it gets that bad again, I'll remember my mum when I first woke up," I said.  
"I'm so proud of you, you know. You may not notice it, but the Harry that I met when you first came here and the Harry that I know now are so drastically different in a good way," Felix said.  
I looked down at my wrist. Almost all of the scars were still there. There were so many, there had to be well over a hundred from my wrist to my elbow. Even more were hidden on my bicep by my tattoos. The most prominent were two dark, ugly lines that ran down the center of my wrist, directly through my 'Things I Can't' tattoo. Identical scars were on my right wrist.  
I traced them with my finger. They were ridged and uneven on my skin.  
"These were supposed to kill me," I mused, "And I've got a physical reminder of that everyday."  
"Go easy on Louis, babe," Felix said suddenly.  
I stiffened. I'd momentarily forgot about my biggest worry.  
"The last time he physically saw you, he didn't know if you were dead or alive. All he saw was your body and a lot of blood and he didn't know why you had done it yet. You've put the poor lad through a lot," he continued.  
I opened my mouth to protest, but he shushed me.  
"I know that you've gone through just as much, I do. There's some things that you don't know about though, that are his to tell you if he so chooses. I can't imagine that he won't, but just be careful with him. He's just as damaged as you are, but he's had to fix himself. He doesn't have this place to help him and he doesn't have anybody who he can talk to like you have me," Felix said.  
I swallowed hard. I knew that there were things that the boys kept from me. I saw it in their exchanging of glances when Louis was mentioned and the way they tensed up when I asked how he was.  
"He's okay though, right? Or else they wouldn't let me live with him," I said, pawing at Felix's shirt.  
I didn't want him to lie to me, but I also didn't want to hear the truth if it wasn't good.  
"He's...better. I mean, H, there was a point where his mother didn't think that he could live with them. She was worried that he might hurt one of his sisters or her or something. Apparently he didn't exactly censor himself, even with the younger ones," he sighed, "And I can understand why, PTSD and all that, but Christ, he even scared me a little when I talked to him. Granted, I did provoke him a bit, but still."  
"PTSD?" I asked.  
"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You know, what veterans usually get," he said.  
"No, I mean, why does that pertain to Louis?" I asked.  
"Cause he's got it. Rather severely, too. Harry, you can't go through what he has and come out of it completely fine. His mind has been fucked with upside down and sideways. He's managed to make a rather quick recovery, but I have a feeling that it'll catch up to him again eventually. You two have to be careful with each other," he said.  
I sighed and stood, absently plucking a pile of rubber bands from the small table in the corner of the room.  
"I'm going to need these," I said darkly.  
"You haven't used those in a while," he commented, taking them for me and tossing them in a corner.  
I made a face as they hit the ground and the clump fell apart.  
"Yeah. I know," I said.  
"Look, H, you're staying with your mum for a week. The only time you're seeing Louis is when they come pick you up and you get stuff from his place," Felix said, "Then you get a week to adjust to your real life again before you need to go back to him."  
"Still," I said.  
"I'll come running if you need me," he said gently.  
"I know. But what if you're not fast enough?" I asked quietly, scratching absently at the scars on my wrist.  
My nail caught on a nearly-healed scab from digging it into my skin. I hissed as the scab got pulled loose but the pain felt good. It took a bit of the weight on my shoulders off.  
"I will be," he promised.  
"I think...that I should live with you," I said, squinting as a sudden beam of sunlight came through my window.  
Felix snorted and he crossed the room to close the blinds.  
"With my sister and my parents too? Christ, I'd love to get my own place, get a fucking job, but I can't just leave her," he snapped.  
He looked tired and I moved to put my arms around him. A lot of the time, I forgot that Felix wasn't invincible and that he had his own problems.  
"You should bring her and we can find a place," I suggested, "I love Addy, it would be great. I'd rather do that than live with Louis."  
I could feel his smile against my hair.  
"There has to be somebody with her at all times, H. If I'm out and you're in a completely different country, what then? I'm not going to hire some stranger to watch her, but being forced to stay in all of the time is just the same as it is now," he sighed, "I want what's best for her, of course I do, but I want to have my own life too. I don't...it sounds horrible, but I don't want to have to take care of her for my entire life. I want to live too."  
"It's not horrible. She isn't your child. You shouldn't have to be her parent," I said.  
Felix gave me a small smile as he pulled away.  
"Alright. We should finish getting you packed," he said quietly.  
I knew that Felix didn't really like to open up and that it was hard enough for him that when he did, I knew not to push it.  
"This is weird," I commented when we had all of my stuff packed and balancing precariously on the bed.  
Obviously the room hadn't been mine the entire time. I'd started out with Felix in one, moved to another, and when he left, moved to the single room. But it still felt unnerving, like I was selling my house.  
"What is life outside of here even like?" I sighed.  
"Riots in the streets. Corrupt government. Massive tsunamis," Felix drawled.  
"You're hilarious," I snorted.  
"I've also got a comedy show. I'm just as famous as you now," he said, "But really. I get recognized just because I'm friends with you."  
"That tends to happen. If you were a girl, you'd be sleeping with me," I said.  
"Oh trust me, I still am. You should see what your fans write about us," he said, "Some of them are rather good, actually."  
"Christ, you've been reading fanfiction?" I groaned.  
Felix grinned crookedly.  
"Maybe," he snickered, "I tend to top, by the way. I apparently just can't resist your adorable little arse."  
"You're disgusting," I laughed, throwing the first thing that I could find at him, a tissue box.  
"I can use this later," he said, winking, picking it up and turning it over in his hands.  
"Oh my god, Felix," I groaned, but it was impossible to not laugh.  
He grinned at me and threw it back. I caught it and set it back down.  
"When is everyone getting here?" he asked.  
"Louis's gotta be here early, cause he has to talk with everyone and shit, and I'm assuming Liam, Niall, and Zayn are just coming with him. But I dunno...," I said, glancing at the clock, "Rather soon, actually, I think."  
"Mmm," he grunted as he lifted one of my suitcases off of the bed.  
"Fuck," I groaned, flopping backwards onto the empty space that he had created.  
Felix looked at me, his mouth quirking up in amusement.  
"H, I sympathize with you and all, but really, you'll be fine," he said.  
I was about to respond, but Niall walked in, saying cheerfully, "Please be decent."  
Zayn followed him through.  
"One day, they won't be decet. And you'll regret not knocking," he muttered.  
My heart lodged itself in my throat as I waited for two more people to walk in.  
Zayn noticed.  
"Lou's still talking to the doctors or whoever. Liam's with him," he explained.  
I nodded, swallowing thickly.  
Felix slid his arm around my waist, tapping his fingers lightly against my hip. I squirmed at the sensation.  
"You excited?" Niall asked, half walking, half dancing around the room.  
"I suppose, yeah," I said, but it wasn't very convincing.  
"Louis's having a heart attack, if it helps. Or an conniption. Something like that," he chattered, "I think he's had to excuse himself for a wee about ten times since we got here."  
Zayn rolled his eyes.  
"But really though. I haven't seen him with this much energy, or really any energy at all, in forever. I thought he was gonna pass out or something when we got here. He went all pale and swayed a bit, you know the drill. But we got him to settle down a bit, relatively speaking. He was about to take somebody's head off when we left him and Liam to come up here. You know how impatient he is," Niall continued.  
"I used to," I said quietly.  
He frowned at me.  
"He hasn't changed completely, you know. Just like you haven't. He's just a bit...touchier. In a moody kind of way," he said.  
"Yeah, um, Harry. I figure we should just go ahead and warn you; don't try and like hug Louis or something unless he does it first," Zayn said.  
"I don't want to hug him. I don't want to see him," I mumbled, biting down on a non-existent thumbnail.  
I'd developed the habit of biting my nails, something that drove Felix insane. He said that he hated the noise that it made when I bit down on them.  
"We thought that he was going to get sick on the way, actually," Niall continued, as if Zayn and I had never spoken, "Had to stop so he could get out and heave a few times. Nothing came up though."  
"I...didn't need to know that," I said, crinkling my nose.  
"Well, now you do," Niall said simply, shrugging.  
"Should we like...take your stuff out to the car or something?" Zayn asked.  
"Yeah, I guess," I said, somewhat hesitantly.  
I still didn't think that I was ready to leave. Removing all of my stuff would only make it more final.  
"You can get the heavy stuff, with your sexy new muscles and all," Felix said, picking up a small bag.  
"They are rather nice, aren't they?" Niall asked, poking my bicep.  
I snorted. Yeah, I had acquired some decent muscle in working out. Felix loved to tease me about it, claiming that I flexed in front of the mirror in my bathroom.  
"Got some nice abs, too," Felix agreed, slapping my stomach.  
"Stop," I snickered, backing away, "That tickles."  
He wiggled his eyebrows before ducking in and digging his fingers into my sides. I screeched and thrashed around.  
"Lovers, lovers. Would you like us to leave for a bit? If no, we need to take this stuff to the car," Zayn drawled.  
"No, it's fine. Felix, stop. Felix!" I shrieked as he all but threw me onto the grind.  
"Christ," Zayn muttered, "I'll just take this and if you guys ever quit fucking, you can meet us outside."  
Niall giggled, but followed him, dragging my luggage behind them.  
Felix sloppily kissed my cheek and then stood up, tugging me up with him.  
"While I'd love to take advantage of you, we do need to start getting your stuff out," he said.  
I pushed my bum out a bit as I walked in front of him and he smacked it playfully. I growled and made to try and return the favor, but he dodged me.  
He picked up my pillow and gestured towards a large bag.  
"I'm not straining myself for you," he said.  
"Arse," I muttered under my breath.  
I shouldered the bag and grunted as my weight was thrown off. I nearly toppled over, but he grabbed my arm and righted me.  
I shuffled over to the door and struggled to open it, squeezing through.  
I could hear Felix snickering behind me.  
"'s not funny," I muttered, "Why do I even have so much stuff?"  
"Pretty sure that at least half is stuff you've stolen from me," he pointed out.  
I was about to protest, but I realized that I was wearing his shirt, so.  
We made our way down the halls. We passed other people, naturally. I wondered if they were jealous that I was leaving or if they were like me and felt that they would never be ready to leave.  
"Lou, do you like need to sit for a few seconds? You're ashy-looking, mate."  
And that was all the warning that I got. 

 

Louis's POV

I wretched onto the side of the road, but nothing came up. I had been too nervous to eat anything in the morning.  
I dry-heaved a few more times before sighing and going back to the car.  
"I don't think that I want to do this anymore," I muttered, slipping inside, "Fuck, maybe Harry's got the right idea, we should just never see each other again."  
"Christ, you're pale," Zayn commented as Liam handed me a bottle of water.  
"No shit," I sighed, taking a sip and tipping my head back.  
"Lou, it's going to be fine, you know that. You've been waiting for six months for today," Liam assured me.  
"Harry's been dreading today for six months," I mumbled.  
"No. Well, at least part of him hasn't," Zayn said, "Not with the way he asks us about you all the time."  
"I was actually surprised with how willing he was when we brought up you guys living together," Niall piped up.  
"I feel so nervous that I feel sick," I sighed, leaning against the window.  
"Well, obviously. You didn't just vom on the pavement because you feel fine," Niall snorted.  
"Actually, I didn't. It was just a bit of dry-heaving, thank you very much," I said, "Probably because I didn't eat anything this morning, but still."  
"Well then," Niall retorted, "Can I start driving again now?"  
"Yeah, sure, go ahead," I said, exhausted already.  
I'd taken to using medicine to help me sleep, but I'd still woken up painfully early, too nervous to fall back asleep.  
I'd come back to my own place only about three days prior. I'd spent all three days frantically going through and getting it ready.  
I wasn't really supposed to necessarily get rid of sharp objects, he was allowed to use knives and such, but I hid my razor and medication.  
I'd had to go to Harry's old flat and get some of the things I had left there. It had been much, much more difficult than I had thought it would be.  
I had suspected that I would be uncomfortable there, but I'd passed his spare bedroom and one glance inside was all that took for me to vomit everywhere and get so dizzy that I had to sit for a good half hour with my head between my legs.  
I was glad that he had wood flooring in the hallway.  
I'd worked as quickly as I could, a heavy weight on my chest that made it unbearably hard to breath.  
In the back of my mind, I was probably convinced that Ben would show up and that he wouldn't stop a second time when I begged him to.  
Afterwards, I'd gone back to my own place and cowered in my bed for the rest of the day, after scrubbing my skin raw in the shower.  
I felt like an abused puppy or something. I heard a loud noise or something and I scampered into a dark corner, my tail between my legs. If somebody so much as tapped me, I jumped out of my skin.  
I was brought back to the present when Niall stopped. I looked up and realized that we had arrived.  
Fuck.  
It was a large, rather pretty building. But I couldn't really make out details because my vision blurred as I stepped out of the car.  
I wasn't really sure what happened after that, but all of a sudden I was in a room with Liam and a young woman who introduced herself as Aysiah, Harry's therapist.  
I didn't really pay attention to what she said.  
Something about monitoring his eating, checking for new cuts periodically, making sure that he didn't kill himself.  
I tapped my foot impatiently.  
I was eager to get out of the room.  
I felt claustrophobic, even though I had never really had a problem with that, unless I was in the middle of huge mob. Anybody would get uncomfortable in that situation, though.  
As Aysiah went on and on for what felt like forever, I grew increasingly restless.  
Finally, I was standing up with Liam to shake her hand, have her wish us a good day.  
"I don't know if they'll have left the room yet. Probably not, it hasn't been that long," he said.  
He led me through hallways and up stairs. I followed in a daze.  
"Lou, do you like need to sit for a few seconds? You're ashy-looking, mate."  
I shook my head, but ever movement felt blurry.  
We turned the corner and almost hit two people.  
I instinctively pulled my mouth into a sneer as I recognized Felix. It took a few moments for me to recognize who was next to him.  
My mouth went dry and my dizziness vanished, but everything was so painfully bright and clear that it was almost worse.  
Because, well, fuck, Harry.  
Without even processing what I was doing, I was vaulting across the space between us and throwing myself at him.  
He dropped the bag that he was holding and caught my around my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.  
"Harry," I breathed into his ear, because I didn't think that I could say anything else, "Harry, Harry."  
I had a feeling that if he hadn't been holding me as tightly to him as he had, I would have melted into a puddle at his feet.  
I don't know how long he held me like that, his breath warm and shaky on my neck and his fingers tight on my lower back, but all of a sudden, he was dropping me and pushing me away.  
"Get off of me," he growled under his breath.  
I tried to meet his eyes, but they were focused somewhere over my shoulder. They were hard and cold.  
He bent down to pick up the large bag that he had dropped.  
His shoulder bumped against mine and his bag hit the back of my knee, causing it to buckle as he passed.  
I stared at him, hurt and confused as he walked away.  
Felix patted my shoulder before walking after him.  
I was sure that I hadn't hugged the right person.  
Because that had definitely not been Harry.  
It couldn't have been.


End file.
